In Some Corner
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Post-47 Seconds. 'Kate stands several feet away from Castle's spot at the far end of the bar, hands jammed into her pants pockets, fists curled up tight with her short nails digging half-moons into her palms while the writer studiously tries to ignore her. "You're angry." "You think?" His voice is harsh, dripping sarcasm.
1. Chapter 1 - Drowning

_A/N: This is a post-47 Seconds fic set the same day, immediately after the case ends. I was listening to Brandy Clark's song 'In Some Corner' which I urge you to listen to if you don't know it, and it made me want to write something based loosely around the theme of the song. If you don't know her music, her album '12 Stories' is lovely. She is a great storyteller. _

_Hope you enjoy this. The point of view varies from time to time between the characters but it's not hard to follow. I will update CHFG soon too, I promise. Just needed a little breather._

* * *

_"In Some corner - in some bar  
Somewhere not too far  
He's drinking scotch on the rocks  
Watchin' the sweat on the glass roll off  
In some corner, in some bar, somewhere"_

_**- Brandy Clark** - In Some Corner_

* * *

"So I guess it's just us," she had said, turning to him with that beguiling, open smile she'd begun to use with him more and more.

Ryan and Esposito had just begged off drinks after the bombing case closed. And her assumption that they were an _us_ – a couple – without asking him whether they were going out for a drink together or not clawed at something deep inside him, something he was desperate to give in to, would have done in years gone by before he met her and she made him want to raise his game and become a more principled man.

Richard Castle of old would have swallowed his pride over a lie if it meant a chance to go out drinking with a beautiful woman he had his eye on, a woman he thought he stood a chance with. But Rick Castle of today is hurt and he has standards, so he walked out of there with a cold rebuff and no real explanation to go out drinking alone.

* * *

Castle's cool demeanor, his refusal to go out for drinks with her, the change in him from that morning, when he had leaned in close, looked her in the eye and seemed to be on the verge of confessing something meaningful to both of them, nagged at Kate as she put her coat on. She watched the elevator doors close on his dark expression. He never once looked her way, and that just wasn't like him. Never was that like him.

Something he said earlier that day came back into her mind then, the stream of words coldly delivered in a tone so unusual for him. The coffee cup left on her desk when she got out of interrogation. Esposito's explanation that he'd left saying he had somewhere else to be…all of these little clues were adding up to give her a deeply uneasy feeling.

_"Sinning by silence – it's not smart, it's not brave, it's just cowardly."_ Wasn't that what he had told Leanne West right before they charged her with conspiracy to commit mass murder?

And why had she felt as if these words were aimed at her and not Leanne? The answer is too troubling to acknowledge right away.

* * *

Martha answers the door when she arrives at the loft.

"Kate?" Castle's mother's greeting is filled with surprise that seems less about finding her here tonight and more about finding her here at all. "I'm afraid Richard isn't here."

The normally warm, gracious and hospitable woman makes no attempt to invite her in.

"Do you know where he might have gone?"

Castle's mother sighs. "Darling, I'm not sure now is a good time."

"Martha, what's going on? This morning I could have sworn he was about to…and then tonight..."

"To what, dear?"

She can't even say it. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

Kate turns away, takes a step or two down the hall before Martha's voice rings out again.

"Try Flannery's on the corner of Ludlow and Delancey. He sometimes goes there when he's—" Martha waves her hand dismissively and shakes her head. She looks worried, older.

"When he's what, Martha? Please tell me. None of this is making any sense," asks Kate, coming back to stand in front of her partner's mother. "I'm worried about him."

"I've said too much already."

"Then one more thing won't hurt."

Martha looks torn and then she sees the concern on Kate's face for her only son. She tuts and shakes her head again.

"You didn't hear this from me, okay? He goes to Flannery's when he's feeling...depressed. Spent a lot of time there last summer drowning his sorrows, if you get my drift." She arches an elegant eyebrow at Kate and purses her lips in displeasure.

And the gears crunch and the wheels spin and suddenly it's all clicking into place. The still warm coffee cup on her desk, his speedy departure while she interrogated Bobby Lopez. He heard her. Shit, he heard her tell Bobby that she remembered everything. He knows that she lied and now she's losing him.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry, Martha. I'll fix it. I promise. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me, dear. Tell him. He's the one who deserves your apology."

Kate nods, about to leave, feeling chastened when Martha adds a killer blow.

"And, Kate…?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't hurt my son. Let him down gently."

She feels her stomach turn at Martha's assumption, then she squeezes the older woman's arm and turns away, never so ashamed in front of anyone as she is tonight.

* * *

"Castle?"

His head whips round at the familiar sound of his name tripping off her tongue, but then he remembers and he reluctantly turns away. The barman eyes them both with a discreet curiosity. He doesn't see too many women who look like Kate Beckett in here, on the wrong side of Bowery. His evening just got a whole lot more interesting.

Kate stands several feet away from Castle's spot at the far end of the bar, hands jammed into her pants pockets, fists curled up tight, with her short nails digging half-moons into her palms while the writer studiously tries to ignore her.

"You're angry." It's an observation, a show opener, a statement and a _mea culpa_ all rolled into one.

"You think?" His voice is harsh, dripping sarcasm and a fifth of whisky.

"You have every right to be. I…I'm—"

Castle holds up a hand, silencing her. "No, wait. Don't say it. Let me guess." He puts his fingers to his forehead and closes his eyes as if mentally summoning Kate's words, like a magic trick or some freak circus act. "The next word you were about to say was…_sorry_. Am I right?"

Kate nods grimly. "Castle, I—"

"Don't. It's fine. I'm over it. Johnnie Walker and I had a little chat and he convinced me I'm right about something even my own mother couldn't understand."

Dryly, crossing her arms, indulging him for a second, Kate asks, "What was that?"

"She said love isn't like a switch, you can't just turn it off."

"And you think you can?"

"Johnnie Walker here showed me I could." Castle lifts the cheap glass tumbler and smacks it back down on the bar for emphasis with a crack.

"That's just the drink talking."

"Yeah, well, at least _someone_ is talking," he says, pointedly, swirling ice around the glass.

"I shouldn't have lied to you…about the shooting…about what I heard."

"Look at you," says Castle, giving Kate a slow, slightly leering once-over, a look of disgust marring his face. "All this time, the cat is out of the bag, and you still can't say it. I told you that I _loved you_, Kate. There. See how easy that was?" Castle shakes his head, downs the rest of the Scotch in one and bangs his glass down on the bar to summon another from the bartender hovering a few feet away trying to look disinterested in yet another personal drama unfolding in this temple to misery.

"Gah!" Castle hisses, whisky burning his throat. "What does it matter now anyway? We all know where we stand. That's the main thing."

"I don't think we do," replies Kate calmly, gnawing on her lip, feeling at sea but determined to make it into the lifeboat with him this time.

Castle turns to glare at her, swaying slightly on his stool. "Are you still here. Why are you even still here?"

Kate ignores his loud, public rebuff and sits down on the stool one over from him. She waves to the bartender, points to both their places. "Set em up, please? I'll have whatever he's having. And keep them coming."

* * *

They sit side-by-side in silence for five or so minutes. Castle ignoring Kate, an angry vibe translated by his tensed up body language. Kate sips her Scotch. She's happy to keep the drinks coming if that's what he thinks he needs to torment himself, medicate his feelings or punish her. She's not quite sure what he thinks he's accomplishing by losing himself in the painful oblivion of drunkenness, but she sure as hell isn't going to follow him down that path. She'll keep him company, watch over him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, but she won't lose her head and get into a fight over this. No, she's here to clear the air, try to get him to understand her, to try to salvage what might be left of their relationship.

"So…I'm guessing you heard me talking to Bobby Lopez in interrogation today?"

Silence. Silence expanding to fill the space between them with a solidity as real as any brick wall.

"You're many things, Castle, but I never thought of you as rude."

"And I never thought you'd turn out to be a liar."

Kate nods, fingers the rim of her glass and tries to hide how much his words hurt. "Guess I deserved that."

"You said it."

"If you're hurt I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that…maybe it means you still care?"

"You treated me like an idiot, strung me along. This is fury you're looking at, most of it aimed at myself by the way. Don't misconstrue what you think you see with what's actually going on here, Beckett. Follow the evidence, isn't that what you're always ramming down my throat? No time for your wild theories, Castle. Show me some proof," he mimics, mocking her voice for effect.

"That's quite a speech," says Kate, coolly, once he's finished venting. "Anyone believe that?" she asks, raising her voice and looking down the bar at the few sad souls sitting alone or in pairs who are clearly listening in to their conversation.

Heads duck back down to study drinks, shred paper napkins or look away altogether.

"Thought not," says Kate, satisfied that she's chased off their audience for now. "See," she says, gesturing out across the bar. "No one here believes you either, Castle."

He wants to say _'Fuck you'_. She can see it written across his face, in the angry curl of his mouth, the white of his knuckles as they clutch the scuffed glass and the hurt darkness that has dimmed his eyes. Hell, she wants to tell herself the same thing some days. Most days lately. She has so much self-loathing for all the pain she's put him through because she was too weak and cowardly to take a chance and trust him with her heart. Richard Castle of all people. She has let men of nowhere near his caliber, his heart, his integrity, honesty, loyalty and standing into her life. So why not him? She has asked herself that over and over again in the dark of night alone in her bed, or in those moments when he looks at her in that magical way that he has – as if she is everything he ever wanted and then some.

* * *

"I was terrified."

She says these words so quietly that she thinks maybe he didn't hear her, when more than a handful of heartbeats pass and he remains mute and brooding, slouched over his glass of Scotch.

She goes to open her mouth to repeat them again or some slightly altered variation on the same theme – _'I was scared'_, _'You caught me at a bad moment'_ (no kidding), _'I needed time to heal'_. She knows they are all excuses of one form or another, some true, some not so true. For a woman who is tasked with bravery in the role she is paid to perform for society, she sure has a wide streak of cowardice running beneath the surface when it comes to being honest with him.

But before she can take the breath required to stumble out a few more words of explanation, Castle startles her by speaking first.

"And you don't think I was terrified too? Did that thought ever occur to you? You were _dying._ I spilled my guts because I had no choice. You were seeing another man and still…I couldn't keep that to myself anymore. But what kind of boor does that make me?"

"You're not a boor," Kate assures him immediately, since it's the last thing he says and the only thing she can think to refute right now.

"Oh? Declaring your love for another man's woman doesn't make me a Neanderthal?"

"I'm not a possession, Castle. He didn't own me."

"You know what I mean," he snarls, downing the rest of his Scotch.

"You thought you might never get another chance…I imagine. There were…extenuating circumstances. No one could blame you."

"So, you _do_ understand?"

"Of course I—"

It feels like entrapment, ensnaring…whatever, something like being caught out, and she hopes she hasn't just made him even madder.

"So, if you understood, why did you lie to me?"

"I told you – I was terrified."

"Of me?"

"_No!_" She insists on this point without thinking, but then it's out there and she can't take it back.

"Then what?"

* * *

Kate taps her fingertips on the bar, beating out a soundless, nervous rhythm; buying time. With her other hand she shifts her Scotch glass back and forth, creating ring upon interlinking ring beneath the sweating glass on the worn wooden surface of the bar. This is not going as well as she hoped. He's turning the tables, drunk or not, and suddenly she's on the back foot, having to defend herself.

"I asked you a simple question. What were you so terrified of that you felt the need to lie to me for months?"

"_Failing._ Okay? Letting you down. Losing what we had already. Lots of things I hate myself for."

"You knew how I felt about you when you started dating Josh."

It's an accusation, but she's pretty certain he isn't wrong, so she doesn't argue the point directly.

"We never talked about how we felt. There was a line, Castle. You know that. We never crossed it."

"Why? Hmm? Give me one good reason why we…why we waited, why we hurt each other? You—you were like the best friend I never had. You were—" He scrubs a hand down over his face, tongue-tied and utterly frustrated. Kate feels so sorry for him, peeling himself raw like this in front of her in some anonymous dive bar, surrounded by people with enough misery of their own to drown in. "Everyone could see it…what there was…could have been between us. Why the hell—?"

"I don't know," she says simply, exhausted by all the things they're trying to say now and still find hard to get out, even at this desperate point of crisis.

"You don't know? Or you still won't say?"

"You know all of this, Castle. We both do. How things went between us from day one. There was a spark and I hated you for it. You drove me nuts, you—you wormed your way into my life…you pushed all the time and I hated you for it until…I just didn't anymore."

"Apathy set in? I ground you down. How flattering," he sneers.

"That's not it and you know it. You look good in Armani, Castle. But self-pity doesn't hang so well. Give it up."

He snorts at her joke. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Yeah, you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

They're taking shots at one another, but neither seems able to stop.

"Any opportunity to make light, play the wise guy and you take it."

"And we're both not guilty of hiding behind our own little idiosyncrasies? Our coping mechanisms? So maybe I joke around a lot. Have you looked at how fast you run from anything real lately? I wasn't making light of things when I told you I loved you. I showed up at that hospital with my heart on my sleeve and you knew it. I could see it in your eyes, how you lied to me. But you were sick and I didn't want to push and I trusted you when you said that you would call. End of the day, I couldn't believe that you of all people would treat me that badly. Call me soft, call me dumb...I chose to accept that you hadn't heard or that you couldn't remember any of that day after you got shot. It was just easier that way."

"That's right…after _I got shot_!" she hisses angrily. "You don't think an experience like that changes a person? Someone wanted me dead, Castle. Life doesn't get much more real or much scarier than that."

He fires back at her immediately.

"You don't think I know that? I was at the precinct day after day tracking down leads to try and catch the sons of bitches who put that bullet in your chest, Kate. Waiting for the phone to ring, to hear your voice saying that you wanted to see me."

She winces, bites her lip and tries to reach out to touch his arm, but he snatches it away out of reach. "I'm sorry I never called."

"Yeah, there's that word again. Sorry. Kind of loses its meaning after you've heard it a few times."

"Not if you really mean it, it shouldn't."

"Sorry doesn't make this all okay, Kate. Sorry doesn't explain or make up for the lies, the…the way you abandoned everything when you left"

"Abandoned you, you mean?"

"How pathetic does that make me sound if I say yes?"

"Not pathetic," she says quietly, her anger spent. "It's…actually kind of sweet."

"Sweet? How'd you figure that? You'd been shot, literally _died_ a couple of times…went away to heal, and I can only imagine how that must have felt. And here I am complaining about being abandoned like some bitter little orphan. What am I five?"

"No. You were…_are_ my partner. I owed you more than I gave you. Especially after everything that happened at the cemetery, everything you tried to do for me, Rick."

"No," he says resolutely, shaking his head. "No, you don't owe me anything. We're square. You would have done the same for me."

"Would I?"

Her question stops him dead. He thought they could count on one another absolutely. Her self-doubt shocks him.

"What do you mean?"

"I've asked myself that question so many times. If roles were reversed, would I have had the courage to tell you…like that, when it looked like there would be no more chances, no time left to put it off or…or wait until the moment was perfect and the goddam stars aligned or whatever the hell I thought I was waiting for…"

He breathes out. "I meant dive in front of you, try to stop the bullet then the bleeding."

Kate waves her hand dismissively, and reaches for her own Scotch, takes a mouthful that she then has to try not to choke on. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and throws Castle a glare of her own. "That's a given," she rasps out, her throat constricting as it copes with the sting of hard liquor.

"Then…what are _you_ talking about?"

"Get your coat. We're leaving," she tells him, hopping down off her stool after placing a bundle of notes on the bar beneath her Scotch glass to settle the tab.

"What makes you think I'm going anywhere with you?" asks Castle, watching her shrug into her leather jacket and walk towards the front door without answering him or looking back to see if he's even following her.

* * *

When he turns away and stares back down at his glass, it takes only a few seconds until his head slowly rises again and he finds himself eye-to-eye with the barman.

"Woman like that asks you to follow her…" the barman shrugs. "Just sayin'," he adds, when Castle glares at him for interfering. "Not a sight I see in here everyday," he tells Castle, jerking his head towards the slowly closing door.

Castle lasts a few more seconds and then he bangs his glass on the bar top. "Dammit," he curses, sluggishly easing himself down off the stool.

He sways until he finds his feet and then he drags his heavy jacket off the chair and forces his arms through the sleeves. His body feels lethargic, every movement slow and deliberate, as if he's wading through molasses.

"Right call, buddy," says the barman, giving him a sharp salute.

"Like I ever have a choice with her," mutters Castle, under his breath.

"Take care, man," the bartender calls after him, as Castle finally heads for the door, which is now closed. "Send me an invite to the wedding."

He takes his time climbing the stairs up to street level, since sprawling headfirst up the steps would just be the perfect end to a perfectly crappy day. Wind whips down the broad sidewalk and he feels himself begin to sober instantly. The cold air brings pangs of regret and that terrible haunting sensation of nonspecific fear that he can't quite find a place for. Along with the fear comes an undercurrent of worry that he has just burnt his bridges with Kate Beckett once and for all. No matter that she followed him here, apologized again, kept him company, and wants him to leave with her for wherever she's decided they should be heading now, he's becoming resigned. All of these signs should mean something coming from her, but he still has a nagging dread that they are over before they have even begun.

* * *

He looks right and then left, tugging his coat closer around him, fumbling closed the one button he can reach. For a second he's pissed that she's lured him out here, away from the warmth of the bar and the wherewithal to drown his sorrows, and then he sees her. She's standing fifty yards away down the street, leaning against a newsstand waiting for him. The sight of her is arresting in itself. She is a stunning woman; a woman he was about to try and start something with just a few hours ago. He still can't stop himself from wanting her, no matter what she's done, and a small part of him hates himself for feeling that way.

"This had better be good," he says, when he reaches her and they fall in step.

"I'll let you be the judge."

"Where are we going?"

"Just walk with me."

Castle stops dead on the sidewalk; forcing several people to swerve around him. When Kate realizes he's not beside her anymore she turns back to look for him, finding him standing like a petulant child marooned in a sea of concrete – heels dug in, hands jammed into his pockets, posture stiff and unyielding.

"Tell me or I'm going back inside," he demands.

Kate looks down at the ground, and when she raises her eyes to look at his face, she seems unsure of herself for the first time since she showed up at the bar. But she tells him anyway; hoping the spare information she shares will be enough to get him moving again.

"To my apartment. I have something I want to show you."

* * *

_TBC. Love to hear you thoughts. _


	2. Chapter 2 - Floating

_A/N: Overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you so much. Feeling as if Christmas just came early._

* * *

_**Chapter 2 – Floating**_

They're walking down the street. Castle feels slow, well, slower than normal, and Kate has adjusted her gait to keep pace with him. But they're walking down the street beside one another and he thought it was over. Why are they still here – just the two of them? What does it mean? He can't decide, can't fathom what is happening. But they're still a them for however long this thing she's dragging them through lasts. It's not over yet. They're still a them, and he finds himself taking small comfort from that.

They reach another corner and pause to wait for the crossing light to change to green. Both stare straight ahead. The warmth they've shared lately as they go about their thing, the closeness, both are gone for now. And that makes him sad, however much he is still mad at her for lying. Yeah, that still makes him sad.

He's feeling the cold. As much as it started to sober him up, he feels more drunk out here on the street surrounded by real, busy, non-liquored up people heading places with purpose than he did in a bar full of derelicts. He sways slightly just as the light changes and he hates himself for being such a mess. He vainly hopes he looks better than he feels, but he wouldn't bet his last Nikki Heat royalty check on it.

He sees Kate in his eye line, marginally pulling ahead as if she can't help it as they cross the street – legs too long, the speed of her stride too engrained to hold her to his doddering, sulky pace forever. But no sooner does he begin to admire her taut ass in those dark jeans beneath the short crop of her leather jacket, than she slows by inches again and falls back in step with him. And then he feels as if he's floating. With her by his side, he could be floating.

She doesn't complain that it's cold and it's dark and would he please just get a wriggle on. She keeps him company again, just as she did in the bar if he takes a more clear-headed moment to think about it. He's grateful and he's angry and he hates that these conflicting feelings exist within his chest when it comes to her. He wants to feel nothing but good things about Kate Beckett, always has. His pride in her as an example of a courageous, compassionate human being was something he took to a personal level in the way that a proud parent might, though he had little claim to do so. And this is why her lie has rocked him so deeply – because that's not part of who she is to him, it's not a facet he recognizes. She's strong, pursues the truth even when it costs her dearly. That she would lie to her partner, no matter what else they might have become – just does not compute.

* * *

When they reach her building, she ushers him inside ahead of her. They've walked for twenty minutes in utter silence. Kate's face has settled into an impassive mask that he can't see through. His partial sobriety has brought with it a layer of regret over some of the wounding words he threw at her. But his residual anger is enough to stoke a fire within him that sustains those feelings, because he knows that trading insults is just something they don't do and so that's the only reason he feels bad. He meant those things when he said them – they were the truth about how she hurt him. And maybe if they had been more upfront all along, fought it out instead of hiding behind some idea of social propriety or these lines she mentioned that they just don't cross, then perhaps they wouldn't be in this mess today. There is a lot to be said for plain speaking, he thinks, as the doors to her building's small elevator open onto her floor and he stands aside to let her step out first.

She gets out her keys, opening the locks, no rush, no big deal, and he watches her, beginning to feel the after effects of the alcohol again, now that he's back in the relative warmth of an even minimally heated hallway. His head is starting to ache and regret runs deep.

Kate pushes the door just slightly ajar and then she turns to look at him. It hits him more in that moment that they are alone in whatever this is together and it's all because of her. She could have figured out that he heard her and let him go – no apology, no explanation, no need to stand and fight – just run for the hills and hide her shame. Only she didn't. And they're here – alone – just the two of them. That has to count for something.

"Come on. You look frozen," she says quietly, pushing the door open wider and then stepping back out into the hall to give him room to pass. "Let's get you inside."

He can't remember the last time he was in her apartment. He'd started to get more comfortable in the last few visits – felt more like a friend than a work colleague or visitor. But tonight feels different again. It's the fighting, he knows, and her lie. Both these things fill him with a sense of uneasiness, as if this is his first time in her private space and he suddenly doesn't know where to look or what to do with himself.

"Make yourself at home," says Kate, unknowingly coming to his rescue. She breaks the brittle shell around him with her offer of hospitality, even as she walks away towards the kitchen to fill the glass carafe from her coffee machine and sets it up with a fresh filter and grounds to brew.

He watches her for a moment – still stuck out in the threshold – his coat buttoned up in a mismatch of holes and buttons that would make him curse and flush with shame if he were sharp enough to even notice it.

But Kate leaves him to it. Doesn't fuss or push anymore than she already has.

"I have to make a phone call. Remote is on the coffee table if you feel like watching something."

For a brief, fleeting second he feels a surge of anger swell within him, rage rushing to his head, making it throb with pain. He wants to grab her arm and wheel her round and ask her, "What the fuck, Beckett?" She brought him here to show him something and now she's acting as if this is normal – him coming over for coffee late at night after they've been out drinking in a bar together.

He finds himself wishing more than anything that this was normal, and somewhere in the middle of that thought his anger fizzles, though his throbbing head remains, and he nods, even though she's already disappeared off towards her bedroom - he suspects it's her bedroom - leaving him to his own devices.

* * *

"Martha? It's Kate. Yeah, I'm sorry I couldn't call sooner. No, no, everything's fine. You were right. That's exactly where I found him. I brought him home with me. I didn't want you to worry unnecessarily. He's…fine. A little tired maybe. I'll make sure he gets home safely. Don't worry. And Martha? Again…I'm so sorry. I'm doing my best to put things right. Take care. Sleep well. Speak soon."

Kate ends the call with Castle's mother and then she turns off her phone, laying it on her nightstand along with her father's watch. She takes off her holster and gun and deposits them both in the box she keep specially for that purpose, dropping her badge in along with them. She is Kate the woman tonight and the man out in her living room is more than her partner. The NYPD may have brought them together, but tonight they do not need the help or hindrance of her job to muddy the waters between them any further.

She changes quickly out of her jeans and sweater into a long-sleeved t-shirt and leggings, wooly socks and slippers. They have spent far too long hiding their real selves from one another, and so now is the time to show Castle the flawed reality of the real Kate Beckett. If he doesn't like what he finds, then at least she will know that he saw all of her, knew what he would be getting if he can ever find it in himself to forgive her. She wants to stop him hankering after this mishmash of fantasy, fact and fiction she's sure he's been carrying around in his head. Tonight she is _me_, not muse. He'll just have to deal with that as best he can.

When she goes back out into the living room, Castle has managed to take his coat off at least. But he's just sitting in the middle of her sofa, staring straight ahead, hands clasped between his knees. She'd almost rather have found him poking around her things, frankly. His silence and stillness are unnerving. They make her worry about him more than the noisy, busy, irritating Castle she's more used to seeing.

"I called your mom," she tells him, noticing how he begins to watch her closely the second she's in his line of vision.

He looks surprised to see her dressed down as she is now, and the fact that he's unable to hide his reaction pleases her. She hopes he'll remain that honest, that transparent, instead of closing back down the way he was when she found him in the corner of the bar.

"I told her where you are. Didn't want her to worry."

"Thanks," he mutters, self-consciously running a hand through his hair.

"So…I'll get us some coffee. You look like you could use one," she tells him, turning away to head for the kitchen.

"Should have known," he says, mostly to himself. "So that's how you found me," he calls out, trying to get to his feet to follow her. But he sways back and then gives up, bumping down heavily to sit exactly where he was, since she can still hear him across her open plan apartment layout if he speaks loudly enough.

"Don't blame Martha," says Kate, returning with two steaming mugs of black coffee. "I forced her to tell me."

"No one forces my mother to do anything," argues Castle, accepting the mug and peering into its dark, swirling depths.

"Everyone had their weak spot. You just have to know the right buttons to press," confesses Kate, briefly meeting his eye.

"Devious," nods Castle, a slight grin tugging his lips for a brief instant. "Have to show me your trick sometime."

"No trick," refutes Kate, shaking her head. "People respond when the ones they love are hurt or in danger. You already know all about that, Castle. It's not a trick. It's just human nature."

* * *

Castle looks pensive for a second, and then stares down at his coffee again. "Run out of creamer?" he asks, raising the mug, and then quickly he grasps it in both hands when he sees how much the right one is shaking.

"No. I have creamer if you want. I just thought you could use it black tonight. I though we both could."

"Are we punishing ourselves here because—"

"No. We're sobering up. At least you are. We've punished each other enough to last a lifetime, Castle." She strokes her fingers over her knee and then she looks straight into his eyes. "I don't want to hide anything from you anymore. I'm tired of hiding who I am…from you at least."

He feels a hot flash of something alarming and disturbing shoot through him and his face gets red. He realizes that as much as he wants honesty from her, he isn't used to it yet, and the prospect of the unknown things she might tell him frightens him.

"Don't worry. I'm not some radically different person from the Kate you already know. I just mean…well, we all keep the ugly stuff hidden away, don't we?" she asks, still looking right at him. "The things we think will make people…_like _us less."

Castle nods slowly and sips at his coffee. He winces when the rich bitterness and the heat burn down his throat.

"Did I make it too strong?" asks Kate, quickly setting her own mug down on the coffee table, offering to take his to the kitchen and add a little hot water to dilute it.

"No. S'good," he tells her, holding his hand up to ward her off. "Needed this," he offers up by way of a thank you.

She's terrifying him and thrilling him in equal measure, and he can't quite get enough control over himself yet – his brain or his mouth - to match her honesty or eloquence. At this point in the night he's barely stringing words together. So he drinks his coffee and he keeps quiet while she curls up in the corner of her sofa just one cushion away from him.

* * *

"Are you hungry?" she asks, a couple of minutes later. "Because I'm starving and you barely ate any lunch today, so—"

She bites her lip, wondering if she fussing too much or overstepping since she just basically revealed that she was watching how much he ate at the precinct. But then she figures, what the hell. After tonight things can't really get much worse.

"I have mac 'n' cheese. It's from a deli down the street, not homemade, I'm sorry, but—"

"Sounds…just right," whispers Castle hoarsely, quickly clearly his throat, and Kate winces at the painful swirl of emotions she can see on his face. How her kindness is almost upsetting him.

"Let me warm the oven. I'll be right back," she promises, placing her mug down carefully on the table.

Castle sinks back on the sofa this time once she's gone. He even kicks off his shoes and opens the second top button of his shirt. He hazards a look around her home again – spies some familiar ornaments on her shelves and surfaces, and some he's never noticed before. He wishes he'd spent more time here in the past – when they were friends and on speaking terms - even if they were still hiding things. He's always liked the vibe in her place, how it's quirkier and more homespun than his apartment, though nonetheless stylish for being put together by her, slowly, over time. His place has more of his interior decorator's touch and influence than he'd really like. Kate has good taste, and here at home she's as real as he's ever likely to see her.

"Twenty minutes and we can eat," she tells him, hovering nervously by the boundary of her living room, a kitchen towel thrown over one shoulder.

"You eh…you said that you had something you wanted to show me," Castle reminds her, though the second the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back. He sounds as if that's the only reason he came here – which technically it was at the time – but now it just makes him sound churlish and ungracious, desperate to leave even.

"Right. Yes. I—I was thinking maybe we should eat something first. But if you need to get back or—"

"I don't," he interjects hurriedly. "I'm sorry. That sounded rude and ungrateful. Let's…you're right. Let's just eat and then…I'll leave it up to you," he tells her, burying his face in the mug of coffee once more.

* * *

When he looks back up, Kate has disappeared again. He needs to use the bathroom, but he doesn't want to look as if he's off snooping. So he gets up slowly, takes a second or two to check his legs are still working with him rather than against him, and then he heads for the kitchen.

When he gets within full view of the kitchen, Kate isn't doing anything. Well, she is, but it isn't what he expects. She isn't busy fetching the mac 'n' cheese from the refrigerator or pouring glasses of water or washing dishes. She's just leaning over the sink; her body braced on her forearms, head bowed and eyes closed. She looks exhausted, fragile in her casual clothes, and she might even be crying, he realizes.

His first instinct is to quietly withdraw. Or flee. But she said she wanted him to see her as she really is. She said herself she didn't want to hide anything from him anymore.

"Kate?" he asks softly, blanching when her head shoots up and then she stands stiffly, turning towards him with her mask slipped back in place.

"Sorry, I was miles away. Do you need something?"

"I—just to use the bathroom. I didn't want to…"

"Castle, I said make yourself at home. You know where the bathroom is," she says, sounding slightly tetchy.

"Yes. Of course. I just didn't want to presume…anything."

"See this is what I mean," replies Kate, frustration leaking into her voice again, just like it had back in the bar.

"I'm sorry…I don't…" mumbles Castle, uncertainly.

"_This!_" she exclaims, slapping her own thigh. "We're far too careful with one another. We've known each other what…? Over four years, been in more scrapes and close calls than normal people face in a lifetime. We've pledged to have each other's back no matter what, and you've backed that promise up with action…more than once."

"So have—"

"Please, let me finish," she begs, holding up a hand to silence him.

Castle nods; briefly chastened.

"I don't want you coming into my home and acting like a stranger, Castle. Because you're not a stranger to me, and if I've made you feel like you are…"

This is guilt talking, Castle realizes.

Kate stops and blows out a breath to get her shaking voice under control. "You know where the bathroom is. Please, help yourself."

* * *

When he comes back out, she's laying place settings on the coffee table – a couple of natural placemats made of water hyacinth, navy blue linen napkins with large white stars on them, just like Old Glory. She leaves a bundle of silverware in the center of the table and returns seconds later with two glasses and a pitcher of water with a few slices of lemon floating on top.

"Figured we'd had enough to drink tonight. But there's a bottle of wine open in the frig if you're interested. I'm not trying to be your keeper or your sponsor or anything," she adds, giving him a terse smile.

"No. Water's good. I've had my fill tonight," he agrees, sitting down nervously.

He rubs his hands down the front of his pants, smoothing his palms over the sharp crease. He's wracking his booze-addled brain for something to say when a kitchen timer pings and Kate's face lights up with pure relief.

"That'll be the food," she tells him, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

"Great," he nods, stomach rumbling on cue.

"Right. I'll just…" smiles Kate, spinning on her heel and disappearing again.

* * *

The food hits the spot perfectly, and they eat in silence, save for the click of their forks on the white porcelain bowls she serves dinner in and the background hum of smooth jazz filtering from her iPod dock in the corner.

"I know tonight is awkward," she says eventually, breaking the silence with words that make Castle's skin prickle, because awkward doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of what tonight is. "I hate fighting with you. I thought we'd moved past that. And I know tonight is my fault," she adds quickly, before he thinks she's blaming any of this on him. "I'm just…I'm trying to say that…that I like having you here, no matter the circumstance. So…there. I've said my piece," she tells him, looking back down at her bowl and then quickly glancing at his face to gauge his reaction.

"I appreciate your honesty," he says carefully, and God it's so stiff he feels like smacking himself around the head. "But I have to admit that it's freaking me out a little."

"Freaking you out?" asks Kate, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"Eh…yeah. Just…we were fighting not two hours ago in a public bar about you lying to me, and then suddenly…" he gestures towards her and then the food spread out on the table. "Suddenly I'm in your apartment eating dinner and you're sitting there in your PJ's or whatever, and…"

Kate laughs. She laughs for the first time that day.

"What?" asks Castle, smiling at her sudden outburst because there's simply no way to stop himself from smiling when Kate Beckett laughs. It's like the urge to yawn when you see someone else yawn, even if they're just on a movie screen or on TV. It's infectious; her laughter is utterly infectious.

"You think these are my PJ's?" she asks, tugging on the hem of her t-shirt in amusement.

"I don't know, do I? They could be," he shrugs, defensively.

"One step at a time, eh?" she says, getting up to take his empty bowl from him. "If I offer you a hot chocolate before bed, will that freak you out too?" she teases, watching a frown appear on Castle's face.

"What…is this some kind of slumber party and no one told me?"

Kate holds up one finger and then she hurries off to the kitchen with the dishes.

When she returns she's wiping her hands on the same kitchen towel he saw her with earlier.

* * *

"Castle, it's late…"

He stands a little too suddenly at her comment and finds himself swaying again with the sudden loss of blood pressure to his head.

"Whoa! Okay, take it easy, partner," says Kate, hurrying over to steady him.

"I didn't realize how late," he says hurriedly, looking around for his shoes. "I'm sorry. I'll get out of your hair."

"No," she says, taking his elbow and shaking her head. She's standing so close that he can feel her body heat radiating out towards him. Her hand is warm through the fabric of his shirt where she holds onto his elbow, and he's feeling so pathetically vulnerable that even the lightness of her touch is electric. "No, I meant it's late and so you should stay. I don't think you should go home tonight. At least not until you're feeling a hundred percent. Think about Martha and Alexis."

"Kate," he says warily, backing away from her slightly. "This is…I'm kind of confused here. Earlier today I found out that you've been lying to me and now…" He shakes his head. "This is a mess. _We_ are a mess. I really should go before one of us says or does something stupid that we'll both end up regretting later."

"Stay. Please?" he hears her beg, as he makes a wobbly attempt to wrangle on one shoe. "We need to fix this, Castle. Today. I'll make up a bed on the sofa. I wasn't suggesting…" She bites her lip and shakes her head. "But please, don't go until I get a chance to give you what I brought you here to show you."

He's about to say _'this better be good'_ when he hears himself and prevents the words from coming out just in the nick of time. Yet again he has the distinct feeling he should be beating some sense into himself – Kate Beckett, woman of his dreams, both waking and sleeping, muse, partner, love of his whole damn life is asking him to sleep over at her apartment. And maybe the circumstances aren't ideal, but then they've both been waiting for ideal and look where that's got them.

He's still angry with her, he reminds himself, in no way willing to let her off the hook. But if she wants him to stay, and if she really has something to show him…the curiosity is just too much. He says yes before he can think twice about it.

* * *

Kate leaves the room and reappears shortly with sheets, some blankets and a couple of spare pillows off her bed.

"Here, I can do that," Castle tells her, accepting the bulky bundle of bedding from her.

"I really appreciate you giving me a chance, Castle. I know I probably don't—"

"I didn't say anything about giving you a chance," he interrupts, dumping the bedding down onto an armchair. "But you're right. I don't want my mother or Alexis to see me like this and…even if we have no hope of fixing things, I'm willing to hear you out. I owe you that much after your honesty tonight."

Kate turns away from him immediately, and he thinks for a second that maybe she's angry with him or that he's upset her with this sudden burst of frankness. But then she walks to the corner of the room, and in that corner sits a fairly large, decorative box that he's never noticed before. It's about the size of the nondescript Banker's boxes they use at the Precinct for storing case files and associated evidence once they're through with a case and sending it off to be archived.

Kate brings the box over and deposits it on the coffee table. It doesn't look as if whatever's inside weighs very much, judging by the ease with which she carries it. The lid and sides are decorated with humming birds and some kind of tree that might be a cherry blossom. It's pretty, unusual and just so 'her'.

Castle watches while she stands over the box, staring down at it, her fingertips lightly resting on top of the lid as if she's communing with whatever's inside.

She takes a deep breath and removes her hand, crossing her arms over her chest instead.

"You, more than anyone, deserve to see what's in here. I don't have a time machine, Castle, but if I had one I would go back and change so many things about us…about our past."

He's struck by this particular statement; since she doesn't express any wish to change her own past – her mother's death included. Right now she only seems concerned about them, and that is new.

"But I thought that if I could let you in, let you see…" She shrugs and looks down at the box again, as if it holds all the answers. "This is the best I can do. I'm sorry. I know it's not much, but…" she shrugs again and gives him a faint smile. "I'm trying. I hope you can see that."

Castle swallows hard and he nods to acknowledge that he has understood what she just said.

"Right. Well, it's late. If you've got everything you need…I'll say goodnight."

He stares at her in panic, unexpectedly fearful now she's leaving him alone in her apartment with this…this Pandora's box.

"You—you're going to bed?"

His tone gets her attention.

"Did you need something? You don't feel sick or anything. I know dinner was quite rich this late at night. Can I get you some Maalox or—you should probably take a couple of Advil anyway. I'll get some and bring you a glass of water," she tells him, leaving him alone all of a sudden.

* * *

Castle sinks down onto the sofa with the large box sitting on the table in front of him. He runs both hands through his hair and then slowly begins to take off his shirt, fingers operating on autopilot.

He lays it out on the nearby armchair and then forces himself to make up a proper bed on Kate's sofa. His head is pounding by the time he finishes, and he has to sit again for a couple of minutes just to stop the room from spinning.

"Here, pop a couple of these and—"

Kate stops walking towards him when she sees him sitting there, and then she gathers her wits and approaches again slowly, holding out the bottle of Advil in her outstretched hand.

Castle is sitting naked from the waist up on her sofa, having completely forgotten that she was coming back with painkillers. Kate is now dressed in a white terrycloth robe that doesn't even make it past mid-thigh. Her chest, legs and feet are bare. Her toenails are painted a dark shade of navy that reminds Castle of her old Crown Vic for some bizarre reason. He's still staring at them, mesmerized by the apparent smallness of her feet for such a tall woman, when she speaks to him again.

"Right. Well, I hope you get some sleep. Help yourself to anything you need. There are bottles of water in the refrigerator and I left a spare toothbrush out in the bathroom...towels, the usual."

Only none of this is usual. Not for them at least.

"Kate?" he says quietly, just as she turns to walk away.

"Mmm?" she asks, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

"Thanks."

"What for?"

Castle shrugs and his eyes stray to the unopened box. "For tonight. For everything you've done tonight."

Kate smiles a tired smile and then she looks at the floor. "I just hope it's not a case of too little too late, that's all. Night, Castle."

"Night," he murmurs, distractedly, watching her walk away until she disappears into her bedroom and closes the door, leaving him alone in her living room with this box of whatevers that she seems to think has the power to save them.

* * *

_TBC. Love to hear your thoughts._


	3. Chapter 3 - Swimming

_A/N: Still overwhelmed by your response to this tale. Thank you!_

_So, that box, huh? Some people mentioned they were interested in the box. Okay, most people yelled: 'What the heck is in that box?' _

_Since you asked..._

* * *

**_Chapter 3 – Swimming_**

Castle sits and debates and sits and debates, staring at the box resting on the table in front of him until he could swear it is whispering to him, like something out of a Stephen King novel.

His head is still throbbing, the Advil burning a little as they dissolve at the bottom of his gullet. He takes another swig of cold water and the pain in his head eases slightly.

He's in Kate's apartment late at night, but this just isn't how he envisioned this scene playing out when they finally spent some time alone together at his place or hers – him out on the sofa like some errant boyfriend sent to the dog house and her sleeping alone in her bedroom just the other side of the wall.

Kate might be just feet away, but Castle has never felt so alone.

He's getting cold now. Her heating has clicked off and he's still sitting shirtless on the edge of the sofa he just turned into a bed for the night. Being alone with his thoughts is actually the last thing he needs right now. While Kate was around, fussing more than he's ever seen her fuss before, he was distracted. Off-kilter constantly with the curve balls she kept throwing at him about wanting him to see the real her, opening up, time machines and regrets over their past, but distracted nonetheless by the sights and sounds of her moving around her home, feeding him, caring for him and keeping them going.

Now there is nothing but silence, broken occasionally by the unfamiliar sounds of her building flexing and breathing at night. Silence and the looming outline of her various artworks hanging on nearby walls that are sure to give him nightmares if he ever succumbs to sleep. Fear, worry, regret and dread nag at his tender, dehydrated brain, and he wants to curl up in a dark hole somewhere and forget it all.

So he stands shakily, bracing himself on the arm of the sofa, and he unbuckles his belt, manages to step out of his pants without falling sideways and cracking his skull on the corner of an end table. He even succeeds in folding them in a manner of speaking, and places them carefully on the armchair where he left his shirt, socks laid out alongside, until he is naked save for his boxer shorts.

Okay, so standing naked in Kate Beckett's living room (except for his underwear) is not the fun experience he always hoped or expected it to be. Not in his wildest dreams did he imagine them sleeping apart the next time he spent a night under her roof, after the one night he stayed with her before her old apartment was blown up several years ago.

They have progressed a ton since then – or at least he thought they had. His mind is reeling from the alcohol and his broken heart and both drag him back in time to revisit the missteps they have both made along the way.

* * *

He is…_was_ in love with her. Told her so too, and maybe his timing was shitty. But at least he said it and was proud of himself for doing so; of the man he'd become by then, who would think only of her in that split second between his brain registering and comprehending the flash of light he saw between the headstones, and the nanosecond it took to get his muscles to react, propelling him forward to throw himself in front of her. He wasn't fast enough, but then only Superman is faster than a speeding bullet, so they say. At least he tried.

He has thought back to that moment so many times in the intervening months – imagined scenarios where he was standing closer, took the hit for her, played out the scene again, only this time she didn't fade or pass out before she understood what he had just told her. No, in his version she heard him clearly as he begged her not to go, not to leave him behind.

"_Kate, shhh. Kate, please. Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me, please. Stay with me, okay? Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate."_

He can still feel the weight of her under his hands as he cradled her, can summon the warmth of her blood as it seeped between his fingers, can feel the tug of Esposito's firm grip on his shoulder as he was pulled off of her, hauled away so that she could be helped by people far better qualified than him; a mere writer with only the strength of his will to keep her heart beating, because he loved her and he needed her in his life and so she just had to go on living.

But in that moment, unskilled as he was, he felt like the only one who could give her help, the only one who cared enough about her to force the life back into her body. Misguided he may have been, but he believed it with all his heart.

She was his everything in those terrible, awful, terrifying seconds, and then she was gone.

Even his own daughter and mother meant less to him in that couple of minutes, and his own life meant nothing to him at all in comparison to the life of this woman who didn't even know how deeply he felt for her. And that is why the revelation of her lie today cut him so deeply. He wanted to scream:

"_I was ready to lay down my life for you, to deprive my own family of a father and a son just so that you could go on living, and you were what? Too scared to tell me that you heard, but that you didn't love me back? That you cared, because I can see that you care, but that love was more than you would ever be able to feel for me?"_

His blood boils and his head pounds again, as anger and these unvoiced words of rage race around his brain.

Still the box sits there, taunting him with its outward prettiness. The irony, that in some respects this beguiling box isn't unlike Kate Beckett herself – outward beauty, closed dark heart, as she seems to him in his lowest moments - is not lost on him, even in his less than stellar mental state tonight.

He switches off the lamp on the end table, and lies down beneath the pile of blankets. His cell phone alarm is set for seven. Assuming she doesn't get a call in the middle of the night, Castle can be dressed and out of here, doing a celibate version of the walk of shame by seven-thirty at the latest, and then it will all be over.

* * *

Kate sits up in bed, the lamp beside her casting a warm glow onto the white duvet and navy comforter folded across the bottom of the bed. A book sits unopened in her lap, since all she can do is think and worry and think some more.

He's out there in her living room - the man she feels the most for in all the world - and yet he seems unreachable; as unreachable as if he were physically halfway around the world.

She's proud of herself for going after him tonight, dragging him back here and taking care of him, as much as he would allow. But still shame sits in her chest like a stone at the reason she had to do these things in the first place – she lied, and then she lied some more, and what the hell was she thinking when she did any of that?

The moment of impact is a blur to her – the heat of that day, the words she had toiled and worried over, how best to honor her Captain and mentor in front of his family and colleagues. That was her immediate preoccupation when the single life-altering shot was fired.

The relief of having her partner standing by her side throughout was huge after their fight; when she threw him out of her apartment and told him it was over between them.

She has wished so many times that both of them had acted differently that night. That she'd been honest, that he'd pushed her even more than he did, asked her what she meant when she said: _"You know what we are, Castle? We are over!" _

She told him that he didn't know her, when no one else has ever come closer to knowing her better than he has. The truth is that no one else ever cared enough to put in the time and effort that he has, to chip away at her defenses and try to figure out who she really was. Only him.

'_Too little, too late, Kate.'_ These are the words that keep running around her noisy brain tonight as she sits up in bed wondering what he's doing out there all by himself. Has he opened the box, is he sleeping, is he wandering around her apartment touching things? Any and all of the above are a possibility – and the suspense is killing her.

* * *

Castle lies on his back staring up at the ceiling, but it spins and he feels nauseous again. He places one foot on the floor and the movement eases a little, but still sleep eludes him. Only anger is sustaining him now, anger and hurt, and he hates this toxic combination more than anything. He is a forgiving man, that is his nature. But how to forgive and not lose yourself, lose your own self-respect and the respect of those around you when you do so again and again?

He wants this limbo to be over, one way or another. His heart aches as much as his fragile head, and as he turns slowly onto his side, eyes closed, he tries to force everything that is bad away to some distant corner of her living room hoping that oblivion will come.

Nothing is working tonight.

He counts sheep but they bleat at him and run away, then shot glasses lined up on an imaginary bar – only this dumb idea makes his stomach roil and his mouth begin to water. He tries writing dialogue in his head: the dullest conversation he can dream up for Nikki and Rook to have – a fight over whose turn it is to order groceries. But even rowing about a shopping list, Nikki Heat gets him hot and bothered. So he deletes this scenario before he can confuse his feelings for his fictional creation with those he's trying to deny for the real, live woman sleeping on the other side of the wall.

He wonders if she is in fact sleeping. When he opens his eyes he sees a thin line of light seeping from underneath her bedroom door. His heart races.

* * *

Five minutes later and he has kicked the blanket off his legs – feeling too warm and too surrounded by scents that remind him of her; of how she thrills him when she comes near, touches his arm, brushes her knuckles against his when they walk side-by-side, how she permits him to help her into her coat and ease her soft, fragrant tumble of curls out from beneath the prison of her collar, of how she smiles in that special way, radiating a magic that could light up a room, though her smile is reserved only for him.

He wanted so much more with her than the meager flirtation and chaste touches they have allowed themselves up until now. He is a man and she is a grown woman, and they both have needs and she's clearly a sexual being and—

Before his anger and shame can surface again to cloud his thinking, a point of clarity pierces the darkness – he wasn't alone in his celibacy, hasn't been alone for quite some time. She is a beautiful, attractive, desirable woman in her prime and yet…and yet…

If she wasn't waiting for him, then what?

He sits up quickly, forces his body to ignore the protest his brain makes at this sudden tilt to its inner equilibrium. Then he wraps the blanket around his shoulders to keep him warm, snaps on the lamp on the end table and reaches for the box before he can stop himself. He promised her he'd at least take a look, if not give her a second chance. What more harm can looking do? If he's lucky he'll learn something. If not, he's no further down on the deal.

* * *

The lid comes off easily and he sets it aside on the floor. His knee is shaking, jumping up and down like a jackhammer as he sits poised in front of the coffee table holding his breath, before sliding the box closer. He peers over the edge. There are small piles of things inside, neatly arranged. There's also a smaller box within the main box, and it is to this that he is drawn first.

He lifts it out. Like its surrogate parent, it too is decorated on the outside – this time with multicolored butterflies. It is lightweight, feels almost as if it could be filled with air, weighing nothing at all. He eases off the tight fitting cardboard lid. Inside, looking up at him, is a picture of them – him and Kate. Her hair is much shorter, not as short as when they first met, but feathered around her collar, almost brushing her shoulders the way it was once she began to grow it out in their second year of working together, and she's smiling…at him.

He guesses that it's fall or wintertime from the slash-neck sweater she's wearing: a bright red color that highlights her cheekbones and shows just how pale her skin can look without the benefit of sunshine. He looks then at his own face – younger, fewer lines, his jaw unshaven, hair flopping slightly over his forehead. He's wearing a light grey shirt and, unlike Kate, he is looking directly at the camera.

He thinks he remembers the day it was taken – they caught a case in Midtown: a model found dead in a fountain. Her name was Jemma or Jenna, something like that, and at first it looked as if she was simply the victim of the cutthroat industry she had chosen. However, the sad truth was that she died at the hands of a possessive, jealous husband who thought she was cheating on him and was on the verge of leaving. He met Alexis' former babysitter during that case, he remembers with a shiver of disgust, realizing how low he almost stooped when she gave him her number and he briefly considered dating the girl.

Kate had been upset with him throughout the case over an article that has appeared in a magazine lauding his next book – _Heat Wave_. When it came down to it, Kate finally revealed that since Nikki was based on her she felt she had the right to read the book before it was published if some journalist had been given a copy to review ahead of time. He remembers feeling a sense of pride and pleasure that reading his work meant so much to her.

This photo was taken immediately after a courier had arrived at the Precinct to hand-deliver an early copy of _Heat Wave_ to Kate. That's why she was smiling at him, while he, like the arrogant ass he was back then, had eyes only for the camera.

* * *

He flips this photograph to the bottom of the small pile and continues looking through the rest of them. Some are group shots and some might even have been snapped by CSU at the odd crime scene, since they have been taken outdoors and at a distance. Kate's hair changes dramatically over time and he is reminded how she has blossomed into the beautiful, confident, much happier woman she is today. Save for the obvious changes in all of them over the years, the one thing the photographs Kate has chosen to keep all have in common, surprisingly, is _him_.

Either with Kate, or Kate and the boys, a few of the more heartbreaking ones even include Roy Montgomery, standing amongst them beaming like the proud father figure he was. But happy and relaxed, or more formal and posed, goofy or photo bombed, every single one of these picture includes Richard Castle.

His cheeks are warm and his heart feels tight when he sees the last one. He has no doubts about when this was taken. A couple of months ago they investigated a case involving victims left out in the open, all of them posed as Grimm's fairytale characters – Snow White, Little Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty. They went out for drinks once they closed it – the whole gang – to the Old Haunt; him feeling proud as punch since he figured out a small detail involving the tying of a bow that led to the capture of the perp.

Anyway, he got a little tipsy and he and Kate had been flirting, he remembers, largely ignoring Lanie and Espo, which was always a dangerous thing to do. He had leaned over Kate's shoulder at one point, resting his chin near her ear and whispered that he thought she'd make the sexiest Rapunzel, no costume required, just naked, with only her hair to cover her modesty. _"I'd climb up that tower and recue you myself, Beckett,"_ he had breathed against her flushed cheek, and it was at this precise moment that Lanie had snapped a picture of the two of them on her phone. He had no idea that Kate or anyone else even had a copy.

They look so happy. But the most startling thing is that they look like a real couple. She hadn't rebuffed him when he'd whispered in her ear, had merely laughed and blushed and told him she didn't need a knight in shining armor, but if he was offering…and then she'd left the tease hanging in the air to go and get another round of drinks.

He stares at the photograph for a long time and then he goes to shuffle it further into the pack, but there is another print stuck to the back of it, the gloss finish holding the two together. He peels them apart and discovers yet another photograph taken on the same night. Mostly it features the three boys. Ryan had put some raucous song on the bar's old jukebox and they had linked arms, singing along drunkenly together. But in the corner of the candid shot, clearly taken by Lanie once again, is Kate. She's standing smiling, a glass of wine cradled against her chest, and from the angle of her gaze, it's clear that she had eyes only for him. Something he's too afraid to call 'love' is painted all over her face; in every curve and light and line and happy flush; it's there for the world to see.

He flips the photograph over because it's almost too painful to look at, and that's when he discovers the reason the two pictures were stuck together. There are a few words written in black Sharpie, neatly printed on the back. The message reads:

_Kate Beckett, what the heck are you waiting for?_

The handwriting is Lanie's. He'd recognize it from any of dozens of autopsy reports he's been privy to over the years. He feels a flood of warmth that Kate's best friend should have encouraged her like this. But then this photograph was taken a couple of months ago and nothing much had changed between them since. Kate clearly ignored her friend's advice, there's no getting past that truth.

* * *

Castle sighs, puts the photographs back in their box and then he lifts them out again, impulsively moving the 'Rapunzel' shot to the top, and he lays the open box on the sofa beside him so he can glance at it now and again while he works his way through the rest of the contents.

He finds a couple of magazine articles written about him, or about him and Kate as the real Nikki Heat, stunned again that she would hoard this stuff. There are a few tidbits of gossip she's cut out of Page 6 too, some of them speculating that the writer and his lady detective muse were dating. He thought she hated all that stuff. That's she's allowing him to see that she kept these mementos really is a glimpse at the real Kate Beckett, just as she promised.

In the bottom of the box is a curious collection of matchbooks and restaurant cards from places they've dined together over the years. He once asked her why she lifted these promotional items and she told him she just liked the designs. Now he's not so sure. He finds a folded up napkin from Remy's and when he unwraps it, there, in his own hand, is a well thought out breakdown of a theory he was expounding for one of their more unusual cases set in the world of steam punk. He had doodled around the rational argument he was making and then he remembers Kate had asked him to sign the steam punk-themed drawing, teasing that it might be worth something in the future.

"She kept this too?" he says quietly to himself, looking furtively towards her bedroom door, which is now in darkness, when he hears the rough rasp of his own voice in the silence of her living room.

None of this is really making any sense.

* * *

Below the magazine articles, on the floor of the box, is a black Moleskin notebook; the signature stretchy black band of elastic holding the pages closed. He turns it over in his hands, taps the cover with his nails and then bounces the notebook off his chin. It looks private, whatever is in here. People don't use notebooks like these for insignificant things. They use them to write down their thoughts, their fears, their deepest anxieties, hopes, dreams and—

Castle quickly puts the notebook back in the box and presses himself against the back of the couch, as far away as he can get without physically moving. He pulls the blanket tighter around his body and lets both his knees bounce uncontrolled. He stares at the box, willing his curiosity away. Then he hears Kate speaking to him earlier tonight:

_"I don't want to hide anything from you anymore. I'm tired of hiding who I am…from you at least."_

He's a writer, he digs, he researches, he gets a nose for a good story and he can't seem to let go. That curiosity has nearly cost him his friendship with Kate a couple of times over the years. But now is different – this time she's asking him to look, to get to know her.

"…_we all keep the ugly stuff hidden away, don't we?"_ she had told him, worried that he would like her less if he knew.

He knows she lied to him, and yet still he is here with an ache in his heart because she's in there – inside of him - for better or worse, part of her is embedded within him.

He reaches for the notebook again before he can change his mind.

When he snaps off the elastic and opens the front cover, two small pieces of paper flutter out and fall to the floor. As he stoops to pick them up he recognizes them instantly. They are the ticket stubs from the night Kate took him to see _Forbidden Planet_ at the Angelica. _He_ had lied to _her_ that night – just a little white lie, but a lie nonetheless – pretended that he had never seen the movie so that she would persuade him to go with her, and it had worked. That night had felt more like a date than any other time they had gone out together, Josh or no Josh, and she had kept these. All this time she had saved both their theater ticket stubs. That must mean something.

He puts them carefully back in the box with the matchbooks and beer mats and napkin, intending to slot them back into the notebook later. Then he opens the first page that has anything written on it. Her handwriting is as familiar to him as his own; only this version looks shakier, written by a weaker hand. He traces the date in the top right hand corner of the page with his fingertip before he realizes that he is about to begin reading some kind of diary.

His pulse begins to race with the thrill of the chase – running down a story, getting such an intimate glimpse into her mind, her psyche – until he spots that the date is two weeks after her surgery, a period in their history that has remained a closed mystery to him up until now, and suddenly he doesn't know whether to begin reading or not; to shut the book right now and walk away. All he knows is that he is scared – for her, for him and of what he'll find out.

But after a short period of soul searching, his innate nature begins to take over again - his writer's curiosity - and so, with her permission, he takes a deep breath and begins to read.

* * *

'_I've been told this might help - writing my feelings down. The way I feel today, I can't believe anything will help. Even holding this pen hurts. But my dad bought me this notebook and he looks so worried, so I promised him I'd try. _

_Like most Twelve Steppers he carries on by believing in a higher power. I used to believe in my own power. Now I can barely go to the bathroom unaided. I hate myself…this weakness, the broken body I've been left with._

_I miss Castle' _

* * *

The first entry ends there, ink tailing off on the incomplete 'e' of his surname, no period to punctuate that brief thought; as if she simply ran out of steam.

Castle pauses, bites his lip and then he takes another breath and turns the page. The next entry is dated a couple of days later.

* * *

'_The mailman came today. Nothing again. The temporary forwarding is in place, so if he wrote me at home… I promised I'd call him. Hardly his fault he hasn't been in touch. I guess I just hoped he would push like he always did. God this hurts. Why does everything have to hurt?_

_I walked from the bedroom to the front door unaided today. Dad helped me out onto the porch. The sun was too hot. Had to go back inside after ten minutes. I slept until five and then was up half the night reading. I really miss sleep.' _

* * *

Castle is even more pained by this entry – she wanted him to push his way back in and _he_, like an idiot, stood on the sidelines waiting for _her._ He's never done that before, so why the hell did he think it was a good idea back then?

He almost doesn't want to read on, but he forces himself.

* * *

'_It's been three weeks. My scars are healing better and I can more of less sit still for twenty minutes without crying with the pain. I finished another book today. Can't remember what it was about – just words on a page to pass the time. I've asked dad to bring me some of his the next time he goes back to the city. Still nothing._

_I turned my cell phone on today for the first time. So many kind messages - most of them from Lanie. I feel bad for not answering them, but I can't deal with people's sympathy right now. I'm still too angry. He'd know what to say. Always just the right words. So why can't I just pick up the phone? Sometimes I wonder if he's forgotten all about me, moved on already. I wouldn't blame him. I'm such a coward.'_

* * *

Castle can feel her frustration with herself leaping off the page and he wants to shake this wounded, recovering Kate and then hold her in his arms and comfort her in a way he never got a chance to when all of this was happening for real. It's making him angry at himself _and_ at her that they couldn't just bridge the stupid gap between them and reach out, admit their feelings and confess their need to see one another.

When he thinks about it rationally, they're not much further forward in that respect even now.

He turns a few pages, then a few more - like jumping ahead in a book to find out what happens - and then he settles on a date just over halfway through the twelve weeks she was gone. This entry is much longer and her handwriting is more steady and flowing too.

* * *

'_I ran a mile today! Only had to stop twice. Breathless. And now I can barely move. My body is so weak. I know I've lost weight, since even my running shoes feel loose, but I'm too scared to look in the mirror. I've been forcing myself to eat now dad is gone. Deliveries come weekly from the nearest town. Apart from that, I am completely alone, which is good on my good days and lonely the rest of the time._

_I reread Heat Wave for the third time. If Castle were here with me, I think I'd beg him to read me what he's writing lately just to hear the sound of his voice. He'd probably tease me for asking, but I don't care. I know his words would make me feel better. I hope he's still writing. He's in my dreams a lot. I'm not sure what that means. That I miss him or that I'm saying goodbye, letting go. I don't want to let go—'_

* * *

_What looks like a watermark caused by the splash of a fallen teardrop mars the end of the last sentence, rippling the paper, and then the entry continues._

* * *

'_I got a letter from the department yesterday – mandated psychiatric counseling whenever I'm ready to start. The thought of the city scares me. I don't think I've ever confessed to being scared of anything before. Sometimes I fear my old life is over, that I won't be able to go back there anymore. Right now I don't even care who did this to me. I just want my strength back and to stop feeling so angry and exhausted all the time._

_I wrote him a letter. No way I can send it. I don't think he'll even want to see me after all this time and silence. He's a patient man. I never would have suspected that when we first met. But he deserves so much more than this. So why can't I stop thinking about him? I feel so sad some days. All those times I could have told him how I felt and I wasted every one of them. And why? Because I was scared? Didn't feel ready? Kate you sound like a pathetic quitter. My mom would never have put up with me moping like this. I miss her so much. She's in every corner of this house, every old book, kitchen utensil and stick of furniture. Some nights I think I can hear her singing to me. Maybe it's just the pain meds, I don't know. But I like to believe that it's her. _

_I'm going to call Lanie. Tomorrow I'll call her and check how things lie. She'll tell me the truth. Right now I just need to sleep.'_

* * *

Castle has no idea if she called Lanie or not until he turns the page and the next entry begins:

* * *

'_I couldn't do it. I don't think I'm going to like what I'll hear. I'll write to her instead, explain, and hopefully she can forgive me._

_My dad is coming up to stay this weekend. We're going fishing by the lake. I asked him to bring my old Walkman and a couple of audiobooks he picked up in a thrift store. Castle recorded some of his early novels on cassette. I need to hear his voice again. Dad doesn't understand why I don't just pick up the phone and call him. I think even he thinks I'm spineless now. I made him promise he wouldn't call Castle either. I couldn't bear it if he found out. I don't think I could look him in the eye._

_Tomorrow will be better__. I hope tomorrow will be better.'_

* * *

Castle puts the notebook down on the coffee table after he stares at the words she has crossed out - tomorrow will be better - hating her loss of optimism. He needs to take a break. The things he's read so far are heartbreaking – this strong, independent woman reduced to a shell of the Kate he knows.

So much wasted time. That is all he can think when he gets up and finds himself pacing her living room. He knew she was badly hurt, knew she needed time to heal, but he had no idea how psychologically fragile, damaged, and isolated she became in that time away from the city. Reading her journal it almost seems as if her decision to go to her dad's cabin may be have been a mistake. But if that was a mistake, the even bigger mistake was the one perpetrated by him – standing back, nursing his wounded pride, waiting for a call he fairly quickly realized wasn't going to come.

So he told her he loved her and then he expected her to do what exactly? Get up off her sick bed, dump her boyfriend and coming running after him declaring that she loved him too? When he thinks about it now that is exactly what he hoped would happen – naïve, selfish, self-absorbed, pathetic, needy individual that he was. And when it didn't happen exactly as he hoped, he lost himself in a sea of depression that found him peering down the neck of a bottle several nights a week.

As soon as he realizes this, he goes back to the sofa and sits down heavily, needing to read more of her story in the hope that her mind will begin to heal too, that things will begin to get better for her. He selects a random page.

* * *

'_I had a dream last night where I was swimming. All the pain was gone, the water was warm and you were there with me.'_

* * *

He freezes. This is the first time he has read an entry that seems to be addressed directly to another person. When he dares to look down again, air caught in his lungs for a second too long, her words go on, and his eyes begin to burn, the words swilling around on the page in pools of his own tears.

'_Castle, we were swimming! My dreams are more surreal than ever. I have no idea if that is a good sign or a bad one. We both had tails like mermaids or mermen in the swimming dream. Is that the word? You would know and you probably have an anecdote to share too. _

_I walked down to the lake today, skipped stones until my arm hurt. You'd like it here. You probably have a special outfit or two hanging in your closet for a place just like this - something in plaid or calfskin or burlap. _

_You made me laugh in my dream. My pillow was wet when I woke up. I don't know what that means. I hope I didn't laugh so hard that I cried. Thank God my dad isn't around to see all this craziness. In a small way I'm glad you can't see it either. Much as I need to see you, I'm not ready yet. I only hope you'll be able to understand why once I am. _

_Only three more weeks until I plan to leave here. Three more weeks until I see your face again. This has been the longest nine weeks of my life, Castle. If that doesn't tell us both something, I think we're both doomed. I only hope I can make myself more whole again before we meet.'_

* * *

He snaps the notebook shut and quietly places it back down on the coffee table. He can't stomach anymore, not right now.

The points that fly off the page from day one, no matter how ill she was, are that she missed him, she wanted him to come to her, and she never mentioned Josh once in all the entries that he's managed to read. He hates finding out how lonely she was – those feelings of frustration, fear and isolation leap off the page – particularly in the beginning when she was at her weakest.

He looks towards her bedroom door. The light is still off, the bottom edge of the door in darkness, and he imagines that she's sleeping soundly now. When he checks his cell phone it's nearly three o'clock in the morning.

He's exhausted and yet wired at the same time, so many thoughts swirling around inside his head and no one to talk to about any of this. There's only one person he can discuss it with anyway, and she is asleep in bed next door.

The journal, the box, the photographs, all the small and big things she kept hold of – they are parts of their story as seen through Kate's eyes, and she's chosen to finally share them with him.

His mind is reeling with words and possibilities when he hears a noise coming from the direction of Kate's bedroom. His head snaps round to look at the door again, and he watches with a dry mouth as the handle slowly begins to turn. She's on the other side of the door and it looks as if she's coming out.

Ready or not.

He stands, knocking the notebook off the table in the process, and a folded sheet of paper slides out from between the pages. He stoops down to pick it up and when he straightens up again, he's looking right into the beautiful, dark eyes of Kate Beckett.

* * *

_TBC..._

_Okay, I'm not sure if I'll be able to update this again before Christmas, so I'll say Happy Holidays to everyone in case I don't make it in time. Thank you for all your comments, support and kind words. Have a wonderful, peaceful Merry Christmas. Liv x _


	4. Chapter 4 - Floundering

_A/N: Hope everyone's enjoying the holidays. Thank you once again for the enthusiasm you've shown for this story._

* * *

**_Chapter 4 – Floundering_**

_Previously..._

_The journal, the box, the photographs, all the small and big things she kept hold of – they are parts of their story as seen through Kate's eyes, and she's chosen to finally share them with him._

_His mind is reeling with words and possibilities when he hears a noise coming from the direction of Kate's bedroom. His head snaps round to look at the door again, and he watches with a dry mouth as the handle slowly begins to turn. She's on the other side of the door and it looks as if she's coming out._

_Ready or not._

_He stands, knocking the notebook off the table in the process, and a folded sheet of paper slides out from between the pages. He stoops down to pick them up and when he straightens up again, he's looking right into the beautiful, dark eyes of Kate Beckett._

* * *

"I'm sorry. I thought I could do this," says Kate, looking tense, the strain showing around her eyes. Her hands are stuffed into the pockets of her robe; fingers curled tight like fists if the bulge they make in the fabric is anything to go by.

Castle stands by the sofa in only his boxer shorts staring at her. For once in his life he is at a complete loss for words. She was opening up and now she's closing down again. Everything he thought he had seems to be crashing around his ears in the space of just eight short words.

"I—I didn't read all of it," he says reflexively, sounding guilty as hell; about as guilty as he did, aged ten, when his mother caught him reading _her _diary. He felt like bleaching his eyeballs after that particular experience. Will he never learn?

Her gaze slides back down to the black notebook he's now holding in his hand.

"I see you found the letter."

"Letter? What let—?"

"The eh…" Kate gestures towards the folded sheet that he's unaware he's also holding.

"Oh, this?" he asks, immediately offering the white piece of paper to her, holding it out fully expecting to have to relinquish it to her care.

But Kate holds up both hands and shakes her head. She rubs her arms and lets her gaze drop to the floor.

"Okay. Look, I can put these right back in here and we can just…"

Castle busies himself placing the notebook and letter into the box, and then he fishes the lid up off the floor, carefully settling it back on top.

"There," he says, tapping the lid with satisfaction he musters from somewhere deep inside. "All gone."

"Castle? What are you doing?" asks Kate, tugging her short robe tighter around her, feet moving, shifting her weight from side to side.

"Putting everything back. You said—"

"I meant I thought I could let you do this alone. But…I can't. It's not fair and some of it is out of context…unclear. I don't want you to…to misconstrue…or—"

Kate runs a hand down over her face. Her make-up is gone, her skin wiped clean, and she looks younger without it, vulnerable even. Castle has never seen her looking so exposed before – it's both painful and unbearably intimate at the same time.

"Right." '_I see'_, he wants to say, only things are turning even weirder and he really doesn't see at all.

"How much have you read?" Kate gnaws at her lip while she waits for him to reply. She has dark circles smudging the skin beneath each eye and her hair is drawn back into a ponytail that she has gathered low on one side of her neck. Ringlets tangle round one another and the whole braid of curls lie over one shoulder.

"A few pages. I—I skipped ahead," Castle confesses, eyes finally meeting hers to gauge her reaction.

Kate laughs quietly, her tone hollow and self-depreciating. "Not exactly a page turner, is it?"

"That's not it. Don't—no…no, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay, Castle. I'm not offended. I know it doesn't come anywhere close to any of your writing for compelling storytelling or skillful use of language," she jokes, thought they both know her attempt will fall flat. The content of the journal is too heartbreaking and raw to ever be the subject of a joke; even one made by its own author – by her.

"Don't, Kate. Please. I feel like an idiot as it is."

"Why?" Kate genuinely seems puzzled by this remark.

"_Why?_ Because when you came to find me at that book signing…I walked away from you, shunned you. And I felt so goddamned justified at the time…so _righteous_ in my own hurt feelings. And then I read this and…" He shivers. Shakes his head. "I had no idea."

"Look…it's late. You look cold." Still her concern is for him tonight. Even after she has made herself the vulnerable one. She has no concern about reclaiming her dignity or hiding that weak part of herself she's just revealed to him, it seems, content that he's still able to look at her and see her stripped down as she is now – no artifice, no hiding place. Just plain, honest truth.

"Yeah," he says gruffly, shoulders slumping. "Tomorrow. Maybe we can talk more then?"

* * *

Kate looks over her shoulder towards her bedroom and then she turns back to face him, a strange kind of reluctance on her face that is more about her than about him; about what she's going to suggest and what he'll make of it.

"Actually, I…can't sleep. I was going to make tea. Chamomile, if you're interested. We could take it next door...to bed and talk some more if you want."

Castle stares at her, a surprised, uncomprehending look on his face that knits his forehead into a frown.

"I just…I mean it's warmer in there," she adds haltingly, thumbing over her shoulder in the direction of her bedroom. "But if you'd rather not…I understand. I—I'm not pushing. This is…" She breathes slowly and deeply, steadying her voice, which has started to waver. "I'm just tired, exhausted, I think. Feel free to ignore me," she tells him, coiling the curl of her ponytail around her finger and tugging on it.

Castle is awake and sober enough now to grab what she's offering him and accept it for what it is. "No. No. Sounds good. I can't sleep either, so..." he shrugs.

"Okay, good. Then why don't you go on in. Get settled and I'll bring the tea."

"Fine," he says, giving her a quick, grateful smile.

"Don't forget your pillows," she reminds him, gesturing to his unmade bed on the sofa. "You can take the journal with you if you want…or not—"

"Can I read the letter?" he asks, staring at the box lid as if he has the power of x-ray vision.

"It's really _your_ letter, Castle. I'll leave you to decide."

* * *

Kate withdraws, quickly heading to the kitchen to make them tea, and Castle is left hovering over the decorative box with his palms itching. Eventually he just dumps the pillows on top, lifts up the whole thing and carries it off down the hall towards her bedroom.

Something about all of this…well, actually, lots of things about all of this feel wrong. He wishes he'd been wearing an undershirt beneath his dress shirt today for starters, since all he has on now is his underwear, and he feels hideously underdressed for whatever serious discussion is about to take place in Kate's bedroom.

He hears the hollow, echoing rush of water tumbling from the faucet into Kate's old, red kettle, drumming against the base, and then the metal clang as she deposits it on to the stovetop burner. The ignition clicks as she turns the burner knob to light the gas, and then she leaves the kettle to warm, fetching mugs and teabags from her cabinets to keep busy in the meantime.

Castle hovers by the bedroom door watching her work until she catches him, stops what she's doing, waves a hand at him in a shooing, dismissive manner, urging him to go on into the bedroom. He does as he's told since it seems inadvisable not to, but having her permission to enter her private space doesn't make it feel any less awkward or strange.

* * *

He's standing just inside the doorway looking around her feminine, stylish bedroom, which is lit by one single bedside lamp, still holding onto the box and pillows, when Kate appears behind him on silent, cat-like feet.

"Castle, when I said—"

"Jesus, Beckett!" he exclaims, dumping pillows to the floor and almost dropping the box in the process when he jumps at the sudden sound of her voice. "Way to give a man a heart attack."

"Sorry. I thought you'd hear me coming."

"Your feet are bare…" he says, mesmerized by her navy blue nail polish all over again as she stoops to pick up the pillows from the floor, "…and you have the stealth of a ninja, Detective."

Kate smiles, gazing up at him through her dark lashes a little bashfully, a little…flirtatiously even. Then she takes the box from him and puts it down at the bottom of the bed.

"I have a t-shirt that should fit you somewhere in here," she says, ignoring his histrionics. She goes over to a large black dresser and opens one of the drawers, rifling through neatly folded piles of clean laundry.

Castle stands stiffly in the center of the room, swiveling his eyes left and right to take everything in, while trying to make it look as if he's being casual, not studying her bedroom at all.

"You can look, you know," she tells him, with her back still turned. "I don't mind."

"How—how do you _even_…? Oh, look, don't bother telling me. It's gonna be some 'Castle, I'm a detective thing', isn't it'?"

Kate laughs. "Am I boring you? Getting a little predictable?" she teases, as she turns around holding out a dark grey t-shirt to him.

_You?_ _Boring_, he thinks, but he only gets so far as to shake his head, deciding to keep his thoughts to himself for once.

He's more aware of his near nakedness than ever all of a sudden with the t-shirt Kate is holding out to him dangling there in the space between them.

"This Josh or…Demming's?" he asks, before he can think to get a grip on his jealous thoughts or maintain some control over his runaway mouth.

"No. Mine, actually. NYPD issue. Some Human Resources drone gave me the wrong size and I never got around to returning it. I use it to sleep in sometimes."

Her last remark does nothing to help him at all. Nothing. Zero. His brain is going places it shouldn't and his skin is getting warm and he's sure his face is flushed.

"Just put the shirt on, Castle," she tells him, pressing the soft cotton against his stomach on her way to the door when the whistling sound of the kettle suddenly pipes up, shattering the quiet in her apartment.

The cool of her fingertips touch his ribs at the points where she misses the shirt and makes contact with his bare skin instead, and he flinches, abdominals contracting at the light, not unpleasant sensation.

Thoroughly pleasant would actually be a more accurate description of her touch, but he's supposed to be mad at her. She lied to him and now he's in her bedroom as if they do this all the time, and why don't they do this all the time, he wonders, quickly pulling the t-shirt over his head. Her scent is on the shirt, just like the blanket, probably from her fabric softener – a delicate, floral mix of lavender and vanilla – and it makes his eyes water with tears. Not from the fragrance, but from the familiarity; how unique to her that smell seems to him, reminding him that he was walking away from her tonight until she showed up in that bar and dragged him back home with her. How tenuous their link would have become if he'd chosen to let go, broken it, left.

* * *

"Here you are," he suddenly hears, the door creaking open behind him. Kate comes in carrying two mugs of tea and a plate of cookies. "Shirt fits, I see," she says, placing her own mug and the cookies down on her side of the bed.

Her side?

Castle looks down at the t-shirt stretched just a little snugly over his chest. He tugs at the hem. The NYPD shield distorts a little when he pulls at it.

"Hey," she says, nudging him gently as she passes him a cup of tea, "I sleep in that. Don't stretch it."

"If you're so attached, I can always take it off again—"

Castle abruptly stops speaking and coughs guiltily. They both stare, neither of them able to believe what he just said. An awkward beat passes, then two.

"Sorry, I think I must still be drunk," he blathers on, accepting the mug of tea with a wince.

He's grateful when Kate lets his leering, suggestive remark slide by without comment.

"How's your head? Need more Advil?"

"How about strychnine? Got any of that?" he jokes, face deadpan.

Kate laughs. "Nope. Strongest I've got is Advil. Had enough meds to last me a lifetime after— Well, you know," she shrugs, watching Castle's face tense. "So, more Advil or tough it out?"

"Maybe later. Think I'll try the tea first. See if that helps."

* * *

Kate lifts the pair of pillows Castle brought through with him but got no further than dumping on the end of the bed and she carries them round to the other side. She props them up against the headboard, plumping them briefly in a heart-wrenching display of care and domesticity. Then she trails past him again, rounding the bottom of the bed to head for her own side without touching him at all.

When she sheds her robe, the air shoots out of Castle's lungs. She's wearing tight-fitting grey cotton shorts and a black tank top. Her legs and the rest of her are well defined in soft, cotton jersey that leaves little left for him to imagine, not that he hasn't already - thousands of times. For once the writer doesn't know where to look.

Kate gets into bed, settling under the covers with a quick shiver, while Castle stands rooted to the spot like a moron. She lifts her mug, blows on the surface of her tea and then takes a sip. Only after she's done these things does she look at him.

"Are you going to stand there all night or…"

"This is not where I expected to end up tonight," he explains, holding the mug in one hand, the other dangling limply by his side.

"Me neither," concedes Kate, smoothing the covers over her lap. "But maybe it's better than the alternative?"

"What's the alternative?"

"Leaving you in that bar or…or not even going there in the first place. Letting this go, I suppose."

"This?"

"You and me." Kate looks at him steadily with some newfound directness that Castle finds himself admiring and puzzled by in equal measure, because he doesn't know how or when she managed to come by it.

_You and me_ - he doesn't know what to say to that. So he walks to the side of the bed he's refusing to think of as 'his' - though at home it would be his – and he sees this as just another painful sign from the universe that they are being endlessly nudged towards one another.

He peels the covers back and climbs in.

Sitting in bed beside Kate Beckett, leaning back against the headboard with a cup of chamomile tea in hand – he suddenly feels as if they've fast-forwarded years to some future world where they are comfortable with this level of intimacy, at ease and in tune with one another. It's as if they've morphed into late middle age at warp speed down some cosmic black hole.

* * *

"Tea's good," Castle comments inanely, unable to stand the silence after a while.

Kate blows on her mug again, hands cupped around the porcelain. He can't see the wicked smile that forms on her face right before she says: "I had no idea how steep a nosedive the quality of your small talk would take when you got drunk." But he can hear the smile in her voice.

Castle grimaces. "Technically, I'd say I'm probably hungover by now. But thanks for the ego boost, Beckett."

"Oh, I don't think you need any help in that department from me," she assures him, with a playful nudge.

"Tonight…I'm not so sure."

The tone in his voice – exhaustion and dejection – makes her turn to look at him.

"Sorry. Sorry, I'm being flippant."

"No. No, you're just trying to be normal. I get it. Don't apologize. I'm the one who's being a killjoy."

"Mmm, and why is that?" teases Kate, still trying to move them forwards, away from the pain and the misery and the lying.

"Honest truth? I'm still trying to get my head around some of the things I read in your journal. You sounded so _lonely_, Kate."

"Yes," she nods, matter-of-factly. "Some days I was, particularly after my dad left. But even when he was there…he…he wasn't who I was used to having around. It wasn't his fault, Castle. He just wasn't what I needed…" she finishes, hazarding a meaningful glance in Castle's direction.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asks bluntly, the question he has wanted an answer to all summer, the question he still doesn't feel he ever got a full explanation to.

"I told you…I was scared."

"Kate, I read your journal. You wanted me there. You wrote these heartbreaking entries wondering why I wasn't beating a path to your door as usual or at least calling or writing to you. So why didn't you just text me or pick up the phone? I would have come immediately, dropped everything. I could have been there the very same day. You must have known that I would do anything for you, after all this time...after—"

"After you told me you loved me?" asks Kate, swiveling in bed so that she can look at him.

Castle just nods, his facial muscles tense and tight, his eyes dark and hooded in the dim bedroom light.

"I know…I know you would have," she acknowledges quietly, her voice soft and soothing.

"So? Why do nothing, hmm? Why let me go on thinking that you didn't want me in your life anymore? You must have suspected that I thought you were happy with Josh, that he was there with you, looking after you…wherever…"

"I'm sorry."

"Not good enough. I need more than sorry. I need to understand."

Kate nods and then carefully sets her mug aside. She tugs the covers higher around her chest to keep warm before she looks at him.

"I hated being so incapacitated. In the beginning it was all I could do to hold the damn pen. I didn't want you to see me like that."

"So you were willing to let me go on thinking that you'd moved on with your life rather than…_what?_ Show a little weakness?" He sounds hurt and angry.

"I know it sounds stupid now."

"Oh, no, it doesn't just sound stupid. It sounds selfish and prideful, which is far worse. You forced us both to suffer alone, Kate. You think I wasn't lonely in the city? You think I wasn't missing you like hell? I watched you _die_ in that ambulance, then I got to see you once in hospital and then you were gone. You might as well have been dead, God forgive me."

Castle scrubs both hands down over his face, hating himself for getting so angry with her again, but needing to get all of this out in the open once and for all so that she understand exactly what she did to them.

"I know why you're angry. And if I could take it back, make different choices…"

"Only you can't. None of us can change the past, you know that."

Kate nods slowly again, acknowledging the truth of his statement. "Then read the letter. Maybe it will help. I don't know. But at this point I'm willing to try anything."

Kate sets her tea aside and crawls to the bottom of the bed to fetch the letter from inside the box. Castle tries to avert his eyes from her as she bends over the box - her pert rear, the backs of her tan thighs and the alluring call of her narrow hips and the long, elegant slope of her back all taunting him.

"Here," she says, handing him the folded sheet of paper, and he sees the instant she catches the flash of desire in his eyes, since there's nothing he can do to hide it. "I should have sent this to you when I wrote it, but I was too much of a coward back then. Too fragile and messed up. I didn't know how to ask anyone for anything, least of all you."

"Why me? I tried to be there for you, Kate, always…" he says, with abject frustration.

"Just read the letter, Castle. Read it," she says, covering his hand with her own and giving it a quick squeeze of encouragement. "I'll take the cups to the kitchen, give you a minute."

As soon as Kate leaves the room, he unfolds the sheet of lined writing paper and begins to read.

* * *

_Castle,_

_By now you have probably realized that I'm not going to call as I promised I would, and I'm so sorry about that. I am. Truly. You deserve better, from me of all people._

_This is my third attempt at composing this letter. I've been writing it in my sleep, trying hard to find the right words to give to a wordsmith in lieu of anything real, substantive, when I know you need so much more than just words from me. You don't make it easy. I know I'm failing you already, Castle._

_I want to tell you to forget me, to move on with your life, to find someone special, someone normal, so you can be happy. Because you of all people deserve to be happy. But I can't. I can't because I am selfish and a part of me - a wicked, weak part - hopes that you will wait for me. I've put you through so much over the years, placed you in so much danger, held you at a distance. I've taken you away from your family, and I'm sure I've set you at odds with your mother and daughter at times too, and still I can't bring myself to let you go._

_What kind of love is that? What kind of selfish, twisted person does that make me? I'm almost glad you're not here to answer that, because I know that if we were being this honest with each other, there is no way you would let me off the hook anymore. You see through me in a way that no one else ever has. As muddy as you think the picture is, you see me clearer than anyone, Castle._

_Anyway, this letter wasn't suppose to be so full of self-pity, wasn't supposed to highlight my failings and weaknesses – you already know so much more about those than you probably recognize. What I have realized, being out here by myself, is how much I miss you, how much I'd come to count on you being in my life – just being there day-in-day-out, bringing me coffee with a smile and a perspective on life and my work that's so much lighter and so much healthier than I've been able to bring to my own life for a very long time._

_You see I wasn't always this dark, this closed-off and guarded. I don't know what you would have made of me before my mother was murdered, but I believe we would have hit it off back then. Only it wouldn't have been a slow burn like the last four years of our time together. No careful dance or words left unsaid, feelings mired in subtext. It would have been explosive, instant, a shower of pyrotechnics quickly used up, I suspect. And for that reason alone – the prospect that we might have soared and then crashed and burned so quickly – I am glad that I met you when I did. I'm glad we're taking the long road to one another, even if it is intolerably difficult and painful at times. I only hope you can agree._

_The silence here is deafening some days, alone with my thoughts, slowly going crazy, and I need you with me now like never before. Only I can't bring myself to ask because I know you'd drop everything to be here and I have so little to offer you in return. I can't bear to have you see me in this weak, pitiful state, to see my pain reflected back in your beautiful blue eyes. I wish just once I'd told you how attractive you are to me, Castle, how handsome your face, in case I never get another chance. _

_If things get too dark, I promise I will mail this letter, asking you to come. But for now I'm going to fight on by myself, even though I know it's not what you would want. I'm going to go on getting stronger, getting better, trying to make myself whole again so that when we finally meet it will be as equals, and you will see from the light in my eyes how I feel about you, instead of this darkness and fear I'm carrying around inside of me today. _

_Someday soon I want to be able to say to you: "I heard you, Castle, and I want you too, if you still want me." That's really all I'm hoping for; the goal that drives me day-to-day through loneliness, these damned physio exercises and sidesplitting pain._

_Until that day comes, know that you are never far from my thoughts._

_Always,_

_Kate x_

* * *

By the time Castle puts the letter down on top of the bed his eyes are swimming with tears. He sniffs, wipes his nose on the back of his hand and then looks around Kate's bedroom for a box of tissues.

"Here," says Kate, suddenly snatching a couple of Kleenex from a box on the dresser by the door, startling him.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough."

He sniffs again, blows his nose and scrunches the tissues up into a tiny ball. Kate holds up a wicker wastepaper basket and Castle shoots the tissues right in.

"Is there anything you're not good at?" she asks, referring to the basket he just scored, trying to distract him from the emotion of the letter, to give him time to recover.

"Caring for you, apparently," he says, in a tone so flat that it feels as if he just slapped her across the face.

"Castle, you've never failed me. _Never._ Not once when I needed you were you not there, willing to sacrifice everything to help me."

He holds up the letter and waves it in the air. "This says differently."

Kate looks stunned. "H—how do you figure that?"

"You _needed_ me then, Kate. All those weeks...and I never came."

"You didn't _know_. That's not your fault. I never called. That was _my_ choice."

"I was supposed to know. I was supposed to know _instinctively_. That's what I do, Kate. That's how it's always worked for us. I barge my way in even when you say you don't want my help. Only this time, when you really needed me, I was off being a self-absorbed, pathetic pain in the ass back at home, while you struggled on in abject loneliness by yourself. I read this letter and _I_ hate _me_. God only knows why you came looking for me at all that day. Some friend I turned out to be."

"Please just stop and think about this for a second," Kate implores him. This is not the reaction to her letter she was hoping for or expecting.

"What's to think about? Hmm? All this time I've been blaming you for abandoning me, for cutting me out of your life, when _I_ was the one who let _you_ down."

"No. No, Castle, stop. This isn't helping. Blaming yourself…? _I_ made the choice, right or wrong, to go and hide myself away while I recovered. None of that is on you."

"But letting you indulge in such craziness is."

For once Kate can't find it in herself to be offended by his inference that he knows better.

"I'm not a child," she replies calmly.

"Maybe not, but you needed help and I should have figured that out."

"You thought I was with another man."

"Never stopped me before," he throws back at her.

"This is getting ridiculous. I won't have you blame yourself for my decisions."

"Then we'll just have to agree to disagree," he says, stubbornly.

"Look, it's 4am. We're both exhausted. How about we get some sleep? Things will look better in the morning. I promise we can talk more then."

"You really think you can sleep?" asks Castle, still steamed up from arguing, from reading her letter and facing the factual adjustments he's having to make to the truth as he knew it: those three months apart now turned completely on their head.

"I can if you can." Kate's words are like a challenge thrown down.

They stare at each other, then Castle throws the covers back and goes to get back out of bed.

"I can sleep on the sofa. Give you space."

Kate reaches out and lays her hand on his arm before he can completely escape.

"Castle, don't you get it? I don't want space. I've had all the space from you I can stomach. Please? Let's just lie down and get some sleep. I promise you can ask me anything you want in the morning."

He sits on the edge of the bed, his back turned to her, his ribcage expanding rapidly, in and out, breathing still labored from the anger seething inside of him at himself, and a little at her, at how stubborn and stupid they've both been, going through needless weeks and weeks of pain alone.

"Come on. Lie down," Kate says softly, smoothing her hand down his back. "Things will look different in the morning. Better. But first we both need to sleep."

* * *

Castle's shoulders finally slump as he gives in. He lies down in bed beside Kate, his back turned to her, the covers pulled up to his chin. His eyes are closed when she turns off the light, plunging him into even more absolute darkness.

"It'll be okay," he hears her say, before he feels her hand on his side, coming to rest at the dip of his waist, a light weight and warmth. "We've faced the worst of it, I promise," she whispers.

For now, Castle can't imagine what could be worse. All these months he's blamed Kate for shutting him out of her life, only to find out that she actually wanted him there, needed him with her all along, and was too proud to ask for his help. It's cutting him to the quick to think that if he'd only pushed, gone after her, things could have been so different for them today.

But then a momentary calm comes over him when he realizes that they are still here; as dark as today has gotten, as far back as they have dragged themselves, as deep as the lies have cut, neither of them are running. They're sharing the same bed, they're still talking, Kate has opened up to him more than ever before – these facts have to count for something, if only he will let them.

The last thing he remembers is the creak of mattress springs, the hushed rustle of a warm body moving closer beneath soft sheets, and then the light pressure of Kate's cheek coming to rest against his spine as she wraps her arm more snugly around his middle.

Seconds later he succumbs to asleep.

* * *

_TBC... Same rules apply as at Christmastime I'm afraid. Not sure how quickly I'll be able to update, but rest assured I'll keep working on it when I can. Love to hear your thoughts, as always. Happy New Year, if I'm not back with a new update before then. xx_


	5. Chapter 5 - Treading Water

_A/N: So this might be my 'Happy New Year' posting, we'll see. In the meantime, thank you for keeping up the encouragement to write with your lovely messages and reviews. _

* * *

**_Chapter 5 – Treading Water_**

Castle sleeps the sleep of the dead. Alcohol, grief, betrayal, self-hatred - all of these factors drive a deep need to escape the reality of his life, and so he sleeps for hours.

Sunlight moves across the bedroom floor, eventually hitting his eyelids, warming them and illuminating his hooded vision bright red beneath the paper thin covering of skin. He recovers some awareness, sound being the next of his senses to return. He lies still, breathing slowly, body warm and still sleep-heavy on a mattress that seems softer than the one he is used to. A feeling of dread, mingled with regret he can't place, creeps up his spine, racing over his scalp, raising the hair on the back of his neck. He searches his memory, tries to fill in the blanks. Nothing is working. He feels lost.

Suddenly he hears movement – the whisper of limbs sliding over cotton - feels the covers lift briefly and resettle behind him, forcing warm air up from down below to caress his face and neck. He holds his breath, tries not to give his wakeful state away until he's ready to face whatever awaits him.

He recognizes the barely audible swish and crack of a page turning, paper on paper, then a quiet blowing sound, followed by swallowing. The rich, fragrant smell of coffee drifts closer, stirring his other senses, and finally he cracks one eye open.

Within his field of vision is Kate's bedroom window - white, gossamer voile curtains filtering the morning sunlight; softening the eager brightness of the day. He blinks and winces, eyes scrunching closed again until he can master control over his pupils, staring down at her dark blue rug to counteract the light display being thrown for him by Mother Nature.

His throat is dry and raw, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, rough as sandpaper, parched and tainted with regret, until he fully smells the coffee and his saliva glands go into overdrive, forcing him to swallow. Finally, he has to clear his throat, giving the game away. He hears a corresponding movement behind him on the other side of the bed – her side – and he freezes.

* * *

Kate is unsure whether Castle is awake. She just heard him clear his throat, watches the slight movement of the covers, then nothing further. He has his back to her, hasn't moved from that position all night. It's almost ten now and she's been awake since eight, despite only getting fours hours sleep. She lay still beside him for an hour enjoying the novelty of having him sleeping in bed beside her at last. And while she lay there drifting, she replayed the events of the night before – the ups and downs, how far she pushed, feeling proud of her efforts, of not giving in to the fear still curled up like a snake inside of her waiting to strike. His reaction to her letter was not as she had expected or hoped, but it was a genuine, honest to God, Castle-like response – to blame himself – and she wonders why she didn't think of it that way before. Still, if he blames himself it softens the blow of her lie a fraction, she rationalizes, since her entire focus now is on keeping them moving forward together and preventing him from backsliding into a bar or a bottle or a deeper mood of depression.

When she finally got up to make coffee, she had tiptoed around the bed to watch him sleep. His face bore a surprising frown, an expression you might even call pained, and she had to fight not to reach out and touch him, to smooth the worry lines from his forehead, kiss the crinkles from around his eyes. She's known for a long time how deeply she loves him. But seeing him like that – hurt and vulnerable – only drove those tender feeling closer to the surface, a powerful surge of emotion swirling around her heart, making her insides ache with the need to be with him, to care for him and to let him do the same for her. Now that he's finally here, she's determined he won't leave until they've talked everything through and begun to fix the remaining pieces inside each of them that are still broken.

So she sips her coffee quietly now, her black Moleskin journal resting on her raised legs as she reads her way back through that painful period in her recent past, glancing now and again at her partner's back hoping for some sign of life, since she's anxious to resume the process they began last night in the corner of a dark Bowery dive bar.

* * *

Castle needs to go to the bathroom. His bladder is protesting painfully, while his reluctant brain wants to keep him here in bed for so many reasons it isn't even funny. Firstly, there's the fact that admitting to being awake means he'll have to face Kate; something he is definitely not ready for. Secondly, there's the distinct possibility that he embarrassed himself last night and can't quite remember, and that too will lead him down a path of having to eventually face Kate – see point one. Then there's the fact that it's so warm and comfortable in her bed. _HER BED!_ And finally there is his poor, dehydrated, pounding, depressed, hungover head. It may be safe lying here on this pillow – bearable, manageable – but out there in the big wide world of Kate's apartment, he already knows he's going to feel like hell.

Bladder eventually wins out over brain, since the thought of embarrassing himself with a little accident the first time he sleeps in her bed is none too appealing either. So Castle bites his lip, girds his loins, and slowly rolls over onto his back. He finds himself staring up into the most beautiful pair of hazel-green eyes he's ever seen.

The sun has risen higher, the light filtering through the filmy drapes now striking Kate's irises, lending a muted warm illumination to their naturally beautiful color. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours the writer is struck dumb and yet pained by her beauty with a deep, drenching sense of sadness and loss.

"Hey," murmurs Kate, in a soft, hushed tone, a sympathetic smile curling her pale lips. "How's the head?"

Castle blinks up at her, feeling like that guy in the movie 'The Diving Bell and The butterfly' - the one with locked-in syndrome - as if the power to move his eyes is the only motor skill left to him upon waking this morning.

"That bad?" asks Kate, tilting her head, her smile widening marginally, before her face morphs into a frown that matches his own when he tries to move.

"There's a glass of water and a couple of Advil beside you," she says, pointing across to the nightstand on his side of the bed.

_His_ side of _her_ bed.

"Thanks," he manages to say, though the word breaks free of his parched throat sounding more like the strangled croak a bullfrog might make during mating season.

He tests his arms next, planting his hands on the mattress beneath the covers either side of his hips, tentatively supporting his own weight to ease himself up to a sitting position. He's panting and sweating, his forehead screwed up in pain by the time he makes it upright. The ache in his head is splitting, like the aftermath of being attacked by a thug with a sledgehammer. He feels old.

When he glances at Kate, her head is still tilted to one side, her expression one of unfettered sympathy.

"Coffee?" she asks, wincing as she offers him her mug.

"Thanks," he replies, holding up one hand to ward off the hot liquid for now. "I think I'll start with the water and work up from there," he explains, reaching for the glass and the painkillers she's thoughtfully laid out for him.

His head feels a little better after the influx of cold water, only his bladder doesn't. "I…eh…I need to…"

"En suite is through there," she says, pointing to the door in the corner of her bedroom. "Or you can use the bathroom down the hall," she adds, in case he wants more privacy.

Castle doesn't think he'll make it as far as the guest bathroom, though he's reluctant to use her en suite for modesty reasons, which is patently ridiculous given some of the close-contact situations they've been in together – locked in the trunk of a car, cuffed together in a basement, he rescued her naked from her bathtub a couple of year ago for God's sake, and he just spent the night in her bed. So frankly, he should be able to relieve himself in her bathroom without worrying that she'll judge him or whatever insanity is going on with him now.

"I'll just go fix you that cup of coffee," she tells him, swinging her legs out of bed and throwing on her robe with an alacrity and energy that he openly envies.

* * *

Castle feels like a geriatric in comparison when he finally lowers his feet to the floor, tests them for steadiness and then winces as he hobbles all the way to her en suite – all ten or so paces – his brain feeling as if it's colliding with the inner wall of his skull, like a bumper car at a fairground, with every gingerly placed step he takes.

He stands over the toilet peeing for what seems like half an hour, glad that Kate isn't on the other side of the door to hear this, not ready to move from partial mystery to full disclosure just yet. As he washes his hands he looks at himself in the mirror. He's unshaven, a dark layer of growth coating his jaw and chin, and there is a jagged red crease, like a scar, imprinted into his cheek from lying on the pillow in the same position all night long. His eyes look puffy and bloodshot, his hair is a disaster that his fingers can't fix and the spare toothbrush Kate left out for him last night is still in the other bathroom. Just great.

He splashes cold water on his face and pats it dry with a towel and then he squeezes toothpaste onto his finger and 'brushes' as best he can for now, rinsing and rinsing until his mouth feels almost fresh. His tongue looks furry, his skin pale, if he ever hoped to win Kate Beckett's heart, now is not the time. He could hardly look worse if he tried.

Finally, he squares his shoulders, sucks in his stomach, and smooths Kate's wrinkled NYPD t-shirt and his own day-old boxer shorts down over the tops of his thighs in an effort to improve on the disaster staring back at him in her bathroom mirror. Nothing is working. So he gives up, takes a deep breath and opens the bathroom door as another wave of depression crashes over him.

* * *

Kate is tucked back up in bed – a sight he didn't expect to see. She has her knees drawn up towards her chest again, tented beneath the duvet, her coffee cup in one hand and the old black journal in the other.

She glances up as soon as she hears the door open. "Better?" she asks, with a hopeful, tentative smile.

"I'm sorry about all of this," replies Castle, giving her a humble nod that half falls into the territory of a bow.

"Sorry about…?" asks Kate, shaking her head, like she's at a genuine loss to place what he might be apologizing for.

"My behavior last night. Getting drunk, dragging you out to that bar, all the crap you've had to put up with since…"

"Castle, can you please just stop blaming yourself for a second? You found out that I lied to you about probably the most important thing we've had to face in our…" she shrugs, and then says the word she's been struggling with, "…in our relationship so far. You're allowed to react to that."

"My timing was terrible," he interjects, letting her off the hook again.

"Maybe so. But that doesn't excuse what _I_ did or how I treated you…_after_ I was shot."

He looks at her long and hard for a second, considering his options, where this goes from here. The hardwood floor feels cold under his bare feet, the sun is now lying in lazy stripes across her bed, and the lure of the warm duvet is tempting, only…

"I should really get going. Mother and Alexis will be—"

"I just called them. Spoke to both of them this morning…just to let them know that you're okay," she assures him, watching as his eyebrows shoot up and then gradually relax back down into his face. "Alexis said to tell you that she loves you _and_ she'll be at Piper's all day."

"And my mother?" he half-groans.

"Martha told me that she loves _me_," smirks Kate, briefly burying her blushing face in her mug of coffee. "For saving you from yourself or something equally undeserved."

Castle smiles for what feels like the first time in days; an expression that feels stiff and unnatural at first, until Kate laughs at both of them and he finds himself joining in, caught up in the ridiculousness of it all. But his mirth is short-lived, the dull weight of sadness settling back on his shoulders almost immediately.

"Feel up to that coffee yet?" she asks, setting her mug aside to get out of bed again, since she called the loft instead of fetching him coffee before, when he was in the bathroom.

"No, Kate. Please. Stay where you are. Really. You look so…comfortable. I can get my own coffee."

She looks relieved – not about not having to get out of bed, but that Castle seems more with it; marginally better already somehow.

"Okay. Great. I left a mug out on the kitchen counter. Coffee's in the pot."

"Yeah," smiles Castle. "I think I've got it," he tells her, backing towards the bedroom door.

"Sure. Right. Of course," she blushes, slapping her own forehead in embarrassment. "I'll stop fussing. You bring me coffee everyday. Why would I think you couldn't manage to pour a cup out of the pot by yourself?"

"No. Go easy on yourself. I doubt I could have tied my own shoelaces last night. I owe you for looking out for me."

He disappears into the living room before Kate can tell him that he owes her absolutely nothing, that she likes looking after him and other more profound things that get tangled up on her tongue when she tries to spit them out.

* * *

When he returns a minute or so later, Kate is reading again, her head bowed over the notebook in concentration, brow knitted so that two little creases rise just above her nose. She has her own mug of coffee cradled against her chest for warmth.

She looks up when she hears him closing the door behind him.

"Hey. You found it." She smiles, looking him up and down in an unsubtle way that makes her heart begin to race, recognizing the bold step she's taking by appraising him so openly in the intimate confines of her bedroom.

"All by myself," Castle mocks gently, holding up the mug for her to see, quirking one eyebrow playfully, until a stab of pain shoots through his skull, reminding him that he still has physical limits for now.

"Okay, wise guy. No need to get cocky now you're sober," jokes Kate.

Castle shakes his head ruefully. "I don't think I've quite reached sober yet. Let's stick with hungover and leave it at that, forget the inquisitions."

"Deal," agrees Kate, wrapping her free arm around her knees and hugging them to her chest.

Castle hovers by the end of the bed for a minute or two, quietly sipping at his coffee, and then he begins to wander around her bedroom, picking up things and examining them. He opens her jewelry box, pokes around inside and then closes it again, he lifts small ornaments – a turtle and yet another elephant – turns them over in his large hand, and then lines them up beside one another when he carefully sets them back down. He flicks through books and lets scarves run through his fingers.

Kate watches him in between reading entries from her journal. The words bring home how depressed she was back then, how low her mood and how lonely and isolated she had made herself. Watching Castle prowl around her bedroom this morning is like a gift after all they've been through, and she can't find it in herself to tell him to stop touching her stuff, as she probably would have done not two days ago.

* * *

Finally Castle turns around to face her, the box sitting at the bottom of the bed resting between them both. He taps the lid and raises his eyes to meet hers.

"That's quite some collection you've got in there," he says, trying not to smile. He's fighting the feeling that he should leave, go home and lick his wounds, and for the moment at least it seems to be working.

Kate sets the journal down on the bed and crosses her arms over her chest. "Okay, out with it, Castle," she says, feeling her cheeks pink up, her own mouth getting relentlessly tugged up into a smile by the hint of a twinkle she can see in her partner's tired eyes. "Come on. Hit me with it. Take your best shot."

"What?" he laughs, swaying on his bare feet, trying to look the picture of innocence and failing spectacularly.

"I can tell you want to mock me. But you might want to take a look in the mirror first. Man standing around in his underwear, hair sticking up all over the place..." she smirks, trying to get a pop in before he does.

"Low blow, Beckett."

"Maybe. Depends how you look at it."

"And how's that?"

"You were about to taunt me for having kept a bunch of sentimental crap in that box, weren't you? So, least I can do I try and throw you off your game."

"Oh," he nods, knowingly. "So you think you can throw me off my game?"

Kate grins, knees still hugged protectively to her chest. "Oh, yeah. I didn't get this far without know which buttons to push."

Castle might be hungover, but he knows flirting when he sees it. He makes a half-hearted attempt to join in. Fake it 'til you make it, right?

"Buttons? I see. Care to…eh…demonstrate, Detective Beckett?"

"Are you just going to stand at the bottom of my bed all morning or do you plan on getting back in here anytime soon?" she asks, locking eyes with him and resolutely holding his gaze to underscore the challenge she has just thrown down.

Castle's low mood is coloring everything, making him question his own judgment and Kate's sincerity. He finds it nearly impossible to take things at face value – like that letter she shared last night, which he has now parlayed from declaration of romantic intent into some relic that belongs in the past; as if he no longer believes that's how she still feels.

"I…eh…" he stutters, "I really should get going."

"You said that already. Only we cleared up the part where you have nowhere to be and no one waiting for you back home. So…are you getting in or…?"

* * *

Kate's sly trick has worked, she's thrown him off his game good and proper, but she isn't quite prepared for the speed at which he gets serious again.

"Kate, what are we doing here? I mean…_really_. What is this?"

Her stomach drops like a stone.

"It's Saturday morning. We're…relaxing…" she suggests, tugging on the end of her ponytail.

"In bed. With coffee…?" adds Castle.

Kate nods, just a little too enthusiastically.

"Like we do all the time," Castle then says, sarcastically.

Kate sighs. "No. Of course not. But that doesn't mean we can't start. We need to start somewhere, right?"

"Do we? Should we? We messed this up. We hurt each other, Kate. Who's to say we won't do it again?"

Kate slaps her hands down either side of her on the bed in mild frustration.

"Okay, look, I can't promise you that I won't make more mistakes. And I can't speak for you, obviously. But reading this again today," she says, holding up the journal and waving it in mid-air. "It reminded me how dark things were for me before you came along. You make me happier than I've been since before my mother died. And I mean just being around you, Castle, working on a case, standing in front of that murder board, taking a break for lunch. You make me happy. You make me smile and laugh, and call me selfish, but I don't want to give that up."

"Kate, that's great and everything, but we can't go on like we were. Neither of us can. Living half a life."

"Castle, you're not hearing me. I'm saying I can settle if that's all there is, because what there is up until now is pretty great and probably more than I deserve."

Castle shakes his head emphatically. "No. No, Kate, you deserve more. A lot more. We both do," he insists.

"Okay, yes, agreed. But then just let me ask you one question."

"Fire away," he says, unenthusiastically.

"Yesterday, at the precinct, when you brought my coffee you had something to tell me, something you'd clearly been thinking about a lot."

Castle's face hardens at the memory. But Kate carries on undeterred.

"You started talking about the victims, about how you'd been thinking about all the opportunities they'd never have. You said you didn't want that to happen, but then Ryan interrupted us. You were going to say something, weren't you? Something _important_. What were you going to say, Castle?"

He freezes at the end of her bed, his mug held a little unsteadily in one hand.

"Can…do you mind if I sit for this?" he asks, eyeing up what recently became his side of the bed.

Kate sets her book aside and her own mug and she turns to face the window. "Please," she replies, gesturing to the space next to her.

Castle sits down on the edge of the bed, but he doesn't get under the covers.

"Okay, look, what I was going to say is irrelevant now," he tells her carefully, enunciating each word slowly. "Things have moved on, changed… We're not who we were twenty-four hours ago."

Kate feels her gut twist in pain at the finality she can hear in his voice. Her lie has cut him deep, maybe ruined his trust and faith in her, but she's determined not to give up without a fight.

"No, you're right, we're not. I've been as open as I can be with you. I'm trying to make up for my mistakes. But leaving that aside for a second, you _knew_ yesterday, or at the very least you suspected deep down that I had lied to you about hearing you in the cemetery, and yet you were still going to say whatever it was that was on your mind, before Ryan got in the way. My lie didn't matter to you then. I could see something in your eyes, Castle, an optimism, excitement maybe, a—a drive to make a change. You were going to suggest something big, something important. I know you were. So if you were willing to see past a lie yesterday morning, why not now?"

Silence.

Her gut instinct was right – he was going to ask her to try with him yesterday, to move forward. And now his head is full of doubt, not helped by the depression that has accompanied the large quantity of Scotch he downed last night.

"Castle, what were you going to ask me?" she probes more gently. "I promised last night that you could have any question, ask me anything, and I would answer you. Now I'm the one doing the asking. Please tell me?"

* * *

Castle looks down at his hands, fingers weaving together, twisting.

"I…I'd been talking to my mother about the bombing. We—we were discussing the fact that nobody's tomorrow is guaranteed. Bad things happen no matter what you do."

"And?" encourages Kate, her fingers clutching at the duvet just because she needs something to hold onto, and right now it can't be him.

"And…" He sighs. "My mother is a hopeless romantic who thinks the world can be saved by love alone. At heart, she really believes it's that simple," he says dismissively, leaning back against the pillows to drink his coffee.

It's apparent from Castle's body language that he isn't about to tell her what he was going to say at the precinct. He's closing the discussion down without giving her a truthful answer. But Kate is astute enough to guess where his speech was headed, and talking with Martha on the phone this morning only confirmed it, so now it's her turn to take over in the driving seat of their relationship for a change.

"And isn't it?" asks Kate, boldly. "What if Martha is right and it really could be that simple? If two people admit that they'd made mistakes in the past, but they…they still love each other. Wouldn't that be enough to…to get them to take a chance? To put the past behind them and move forward…together?"

Castle's head rises slowly from the spot on the covers he'd been studying, and when he turns his eyes on her she sees the layer of doubt and hurt still swimming there. Not the smile she'd hoped for when she finally forced the words out; no matter how abstract or theoretical a concept they were couched within.

When he turns away again and looks back down at his cup without saying anything, Kate can feel herself getting mad, the need to fight for him rising up in her chest.

* * *

She throws the covers back and crawls down the bed again, dragging the box back towards her until it rests in between them, and then she yanks the lid off and tosses it aside onto the floor. She fishes around until she finds the smaller box containing the photographs she's collected and saved over the years, and then she sits back to open the box and grab the small stack of pictures safely stored within.

"Look at these," she says, furiously laying them out on the bed. "I take it you've seen them already?"

Castle nods.

"Okay, so what do you see? Tell me what you see."

Castle shrugs and then he shakes his head a little. "People. Friends."

"_And_…? What else?" pushes Kate, arranging the photos in a tiled pattern so that he can see all of them at a glance.

"They're just pictures, Kate," he says uncomfortably.

"Is that so?" she snaps. "So this," she asks him, holding the photograph of the two of them in the Old Haunt in front of his face, the one where he was whispering in her ear about Rapunzel, "this is _just a photograph_? Doesn't mean anything more to you than that?"

He shrugs, noncommittally.

"Don't lie to me!" she yells, finally finding her voice and the source of her passion. "Castle, don't you dare lie to me. Because I know you. I know you better than that. I know that you can see the same thing in these photos that I can see. That everyone who knows us can see."

"That was before," he argues dully, and she knows for certain that he does see it as soon as he concedes the point.

"Before, after…it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that—" her voice catches in her throat and tears brim in her eyes, because she knows everything hinges around the argument she makes now – his face, his fear, her chat with Martha this morning proved it all - and she thought this would be easier by now.

"It's okay," replies Castle quietly, scrambling to get out of bed. "You don't have to say it," he tells her, heading for the door, his shoulders slumped, the same dead expression she saw on his face when he left the precinct in the elevator yesterday and never looked back.

"Don't you dare walk out on me," yells Kate, a sob catching in her throat. "Not when I'm trying to tell you that I love you, dammit. I love you, Castle. Please don't go," she whispers, dropping her head into her hands.

* * *

_TBC... Love to hear your thoughts. Hope to be back soon with more. Liv xx_


	6. Chapter 6 - Dry Land

_A/N: Made it with a New Years update. Sorry if you're in Oz or NZ and off to bed already. Enjoy!_

* * *

_**Chapter 6 – Dry Land**_

When Kate looks up again just seconds later, Castle is gone. She stares at the covers on her bed – at the photographs strewn across her comforter like some stalker's collection of trophies. She feels tired and wrung out, all her earlier excitement and enthusiasm for openness drained away, since this is where it's led her – in bed alone while Castle breaks for the border.

She picks up the photograph Lanie took of the boys singing at the Old Haunt – the one that caught her looking so lovingly at Castle – and then she flips it over to reread the note her friend wrote on the back: _Kate Beckett, what the heck are you waiting for?_ She shakes her head and throws the photograph back down on top of the others, angrily wiping a tear from her cheek, swiping at it with the back of her hand, and then she tosses the covers aside and gets out of bed feeling weary already.

Her feet hit the hardwood floor and she winces at the cold beneath her toes. She snatches up her mug, preparing to take it to the kitchen for a top-up, not much else left to do on this washout of a Saturday. Only as she enters the living room, she pulls up short, gripping hold of the doorframe to steady herself when she sees Castle sitting quietly on her sofa. His body is pitched forward, bowed over his knees, and he's holding his head in his hands.

If he hears her movement, he doesn't look up, just goes on staring down at the floor. But he's still here, she reminds herself, and that is something. So she quietly deposits the mug on the coffee table and moves past him to sit down on the sofa beside him on the blankets she gave him to sleep on last night, before he joined her in her own bed.

She sits and then she waits, quietly, her whole being on tenterhooks, breathing rapid and shallow, heart pounding.

* * *

Eventually, after a couple of nerve-wracking moments, Castle finds his voice, finds it in himself to say something that isn't tainted with bitter regret, or hurt, or the aftereffects of his late night drinking session.

"Do you know how long I've waited to hear you say that?" he asks, sitting up straighter when he's finished speaking, turning his head to the side to glance at her.

Kate purses her lips and then drags her gaze up from the floor to meet his. "A long time, I imagine," she nods solemnly, caressing his tired face with her eyes, finding herself lingering on his lips, unable to look way until he speaks again.

"A _very_ long time," emphasizes Castle, rocking backwards and forwards slightly.

"Look, I know what I just said in there doesn't fix everything," she assures him, in case he thinks this is some cheap trick or last ditch effort to stop him running out on her. "I'm not that unrealistic or naive. We've been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours alone. But if you can cast your mind back—"

"_Don't_, Kate," he interjects, cutting her off, making her heart thrash fearfully in her chest. But then he surprises her when he reaches for her hand and clasps it with his own, tangling their fingers together. "You've done more than enough already," he tells her seriously.

"What—what does that mean?" she asks haltingly, feeling both confused and panicked.

He's holding her hand and yet he's still sending out mixed signals that she's unable to get a read on. Since when did they stop being able to see one another plainly? Or did they ever really have that figured out? Finishing each other's sentences is one thing – an intellectual quirk, a certain level of attunement, maybe even a sort of parlor game - but they've kept parts of themselves hidden for so long it's become an ingrained habit that is hard to break. A default setting they'll both have to master switching off.

Castle turns his head and rests his forehead against her temple and she feels a spark of hope ignite in her chest. His warm, minty breath ghosts over her cheek. His eyes are trained down on their joined hands as if he's studying them - admiring how well they fit together - until he lets go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders instead, bringing her closer, tucking her protectively into his side. "It means that we have a place to start, I guess. Some common ground…something to build on."

"Wait," says Kate, pulling away a little so that she can see him. "I tell you that I _love you_ and that's the best you can come up with?" she asks, and she's being half-serious and half-joking with this jibe.

Which half they lean towards will all depend on him now; on his next response.

"You didn't like my little construction analogy, Beckett?" Castle asks teasingly, and Kate lets out a surprised breath, something close to laughter that immediately more or less morphs into a sob of relief. "I was thinking about those walls of yours we've been working towards destroying," he reminds her, squeezing her shoulder.

"Right," she says, gently nudging her head back against his forehead, playfully. "My walls," she repeats with a wan smile.

* * *

Castle draws her closer again and they sit quietly, side-by-side for a couple of minutes, minds drifting back over the last several hours, reliving all the water that has flowed under that particular bridge.

"I could have killed Ryan for interrupting us yesterday," Castle confesses out of nowhere, scrubbing one hand down over his face, rasping the growth on his chin in the process.

"You know, I thought the same thing at the time," admits Kate. "I honestly wanted to strangle him with my bare hands. But now I'm not so sure. Maybe he did us a favor?"

"Please tell me you have some sane reason, some…well-thought out, rational basis for saying that?" pleads Castle, utterly unconvinced.

"_Well_, look at where we are now. His interruption brought you here, to my apartment, and you spent the night…" points out Kate lightly, letting her hand come to rest on his bare knee. She rubs her thumb back and forth over the ridge of his patella, discreetly taking in the light golden hairs that coat his muscular thighs. She tucks this new information away in a safe place, along with all the other glimpses and clues she's been gleaning over the last few hours; like how her restless, hard to keep quiet partner can sleep for the entire night in one position without moving an inch.

"Maybe so, but I also have a raging hangover and we fought. You just yelled at me, Kate," reminds Castle, displaying more pessimism than optimism for once.

"Oh, come on. None of that is exactly Ryan's fault."

"No, I guess not," admits Castle reluctantly.

"And it's not like you to be so glass half-empty," chides Kate, giving him a nudge and a quick flash of her smile.

"Please don't mention glasses, half-empty or otherwise," groans Castle, holding his head for effect.

Kate laughs. "I'm just not used to this role reversal. To being the positive one."

"Me neither," admits Castle. "Though I will admit that I could get used to you being this open with me."

Kate chews her lip for a second, apologies and feelings of guilt churning around inside of her. "I'm sorry I've made things so…_difficult_ between us over the years, Castle. It's just who I turned into after—" She shakes her head and squeezes Castle's hand. "Anyway, that's in the past. I promise I'll try to be more open from now on. And no more lies."

Castle squeezes her hand back. "Sounds good to me," he tells her quietly.

"Anyway, what _was_ your plan if we hadn't been interrupted yesterday? Hmm? Ask me out to dinner? Maybe bring me flowers?" teases Kate. "How much longer do you think it would have taken us to get to this – sitting here on a Saturday morning in our pajamas - if you'd taken the gentlemanly, chivalrous route, Castle?"

When she finishes speaking, Castle is grinning.

"You are one ruthless, calculating, pragmatic, unromantic woman. And I love you, Kate Beckett," he says, turning to fully face her, his eyes roaming from her hair to her lips and back up to meet her gaze again.

Kate reaches out to touch Castle's cheek, her fingers curling under his jaw as she strokes the delicate skin beneath his eye with her thumb. The warm fuzz of his scruff brushes against her palm and she's tempted to pause and stroke this too. So much of him she wants to touch and learn about and love. She hesitates for just a second before she leans in and presses her lips against his. The kiss is light, gentle, exploratory, a bridge between what they were and what they are slowly becoming, and she lingers just a little longer before she breaks off to rest her forehead against his, their noses brushing.

She knows he's feeling rough and now they're finally on the same page, they can take all the time they need to move things on to a more physical level. There is no rush once there is certainty. Slower is far sexier; the build up, like great foreplay, will only heighten the experience later.

* * *

Kate is smiling when she eases back a little, her cheeks flushed with a new found pleasure and excitement; with the rightness of this intimate, watershed moment.

Castle cocks his head to one side, reaches out to run his hand over her ponytail, which is lying over one bare shoulder, and then he winds a curl around his finger and tugs playfully on the end.

"Still pulling my pigtails?" asks Kate, raising one eyebrow, her eyes dancing impishly.

"Sorry. Never gonna to stop. Not now," he tells her, palming the back of her neck and leaning in again for another soft, emotionally charged, much deeper kiss.

Kate sighs when they break apart, reaching down to stroke her finger over his open palm, smiling when her light touch tickles him and he closes his fingers around hers. "I wouldn't want you to. You keep me in line. Help me get things in perspective. Every homicide cop should have a Castle."

"Department issue?" he laughs in surprise, smoothing his hand up and down her bare thigh. "Gates would love that."

Kate nods in agreement, her lips formed into a permanent smile, despite how tired she's feeling. "Speaking of Department issue," she purrs, reaching for his t-shirt and lightly tugging on the fabric where his well-defined biceps emerges from beneath the sleeve. "You do look good in that shirt."

Castle chuckles through his surprise at this unexpected compliment. "Want a photo for your collection?" he jokes, striking an absurdly comical pose.

"Oh, shut up," giggles Kate, pressing her index finger to his lips. "And not a word to the boys or Lanie about the contents of that box I showed you, or I won't be sharing my _other_ special box with you," she threatens sexily, her expression one of mischief.

Castle's eyes widen at the clear suggestion in her tone. She's being playful, relaxed and flirtatious, and he really can't be grateful enough to her for the skill with which she's managed to save them from themselves and his depths of moroseness this morning in particular.

He mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Secret's safe with me, Kate," he tells her, taking both her hands in his and just holding them while their minds settle and they revel in the quiet peace of the moment.

* * *

"Can you stay?" Kate eventually asks, a small note of self-doubt and timidity creeping into her voice when she finally manages to ask the question that's been bothering her ever since she walked out of the bedroom expecting to find him gone.

"Do you want me to stay? You must be exhausted. It's been a pretty big few days, with the bombing case on top of everything else."

Kate smiles, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "Castle, I'm _asking_ you to stay. Please, if you can. I have the weekend off. We can just…hang out, talk some more if you want, try and figure out where things stand now. How…"

Kate drops her head and stares at her lap.

"Hey," murmurs Castle, touching the tip of her chin and guiding her head back up so he can see her face again. "How what?"

"How we…take things from here," she shrugs, not articulating very well.

"In that case, I would love to stay, since you asked so nicely. So…off until Monday?"

"I'm back on call from midnight Sunday. That gives us—"

"Less than two days to figure this out," teases Castle, as if two lives entwining can magically be perfected against the clock.

"No. No, we have as long as it takes to work this out," Kate assures him.

"Long as in…?" asks Castle, keen to understand Kate's view of where they are and where they're going. He knows what he would like to happen, but he's still not sure of her vision for them.

Kate shrugs, offering him a tired smile, and she curls up against him on the sofa, lifting her feet up off the floor. "I don't know…_forever,_ I guess? How long is forever, Castle?"

Castle hears what she's saying as well as what she's telling him, and he swallows roughly, trying to keep his composure. "Forever is…as long as we're granted, I suppose." Then he loses it, just a little. "God, you're beautiful like this," he tells her, a surge of emotion catching him off-guard at how willing and earnest and open she's being with him finally. "I mean you're always beautiful, it's just…" He shakes his head, losing his train of thought for a second.

"What?" asks Kate, looking away shyly, before she is inexorably drawn back to look at him again. "Tired, no make-up, in my nightclothes?"

"All of the above, yes, but also just being so…so _open_ with me. Talking about the future like it's just something we do every day."

"I want it to be. I really do. I'm sorry I've been so closed off for so long. But I'm in this now, Castle, because I really, really want to be. No more waiting, no more walls or holding back. I've had enough of being careful around you. I _know_ you. You're not going to hurt me, and I want you to stop trying to prove yourself to me. You don't have to do that anymore. I'm sold," she tells him, with a gentle smile.

"You mean that?"

Kate nods. "I do."

* * *

Castle stares at her for a second, his expression one of complete adoration, and then his stomach rumbles and they both laugh, breaking the magic of the moment.

"Right, let me make you something to eat," she whispers, kissing him lightly on the cheek this time before she pulls back fully and sits up straight, carefully placing her feet back on the floor. "You'll feel better with some food inside you."

"Something plain," he practically whines, but for a change Kate finds his little boy routine adorable. "Nothing rich or with sauce or anything," he tells her, wrinkling his nose.

"Got it. Plain. Right, you go next door," she tells him, standing up and then tugging on his hands to help him do the same. He's a big guy and he's playing dumb, so he nearly topples her back down into his lap. But Kate is strong and she persists. "Come on, back to bed. I'll make us some eggs and toast. Bring it in when it's ready. Go put your feet up. Newspaper should be outside the front door."

"You're spoiling me," he grins, pausing on his way to her front door to leer at her long legs and taut ass in those tiny grey cotton shorts.

"Get used to it," she tells him, with an easy smile. "Now scram."

* * *

Kate is cracking eggs into a bowl when she feels his hands land on her hips. He's right behind her, his body radiating heat into her skin in the stuttering instant when she stops what she's doing, losing a flake of earth-toned eggshell into the bowl along with the whites and yolks. She freezes, pausing to enjoy the solidity, the reassurance and comfort of having him here - here in _this_ way.

She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, smiling helplessly as Castle lightly runs his fingers up and down her upper arms. Slowly, quietly, he bends over her, nuzzling his nose into her ponytail before he leans to one side to press the sweetest kiss to the half of her nape that is bare, where she's swept her hair off her neck to one side. A jolt of electricity races down her spine and she clutches at the countertop to keep her knees from buckling.

Castle moves his hands from her arms back down to her hips, and then he slides one large, warm palm over her stomach, instantly melting her insides. Every neuron in her brain, every synapse and nerve ending is alive with the sensation of him touching her, surrounding her. Muscles contract, shivers and jolts ripple through her body, as she comes alive under his hands.

"Just to be clear," he whispers behind her ear, his chest grazing her shoulder blades as he brushes the velvety curve of the outer shell with his lips, "we are starting something here?"

His question, his need to ask it and the slight shade of doubt in his voice are almost painful to hear.

Kate drops her own hands from the counter to cover his on her hip and stomach, fingers worming their way into the gaps she manages to open up with faint pressure and a little persistence as she nods. But then her mind begins questioning and she realizes this still isn't enough reassurance for either of them. So she turns within his arms, her bare feet placed between his, and she faces him.

"Castle," she murmurs, cupping his earnest face in both hands, "we're already so deep into this I can't remember when it started. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He looks at her, waiting patiently for her to say more, to explain more about how she sees them, because he really, really wants to see her vision of them - to see them as she sees them.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't know when I fell in love with you, whether it was one year in or two or maybe even somewhere within the first few months. My point is, we've been together one-way or another more of less from the beginning. It really has just been you and me for a long time. That's how other people see us - Castle and Beckett - a package deal. And nobody messes with that or gets in the middle of it, because even when they did it never lasted."

She stretches up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the side of his mouth - a kiss of reassurance.

"No one ever compared to the way you made me feel. Even when you were getting on my nerves or we were fighting, no one made me feel as special, as...understood, as safe or wanted or as loved as you do. In my head I think I've been spoken for...promised to, for a really long time. Face it, Castle, neither of us has been on a date in…well, _forever_. And I think there's a simple reason for that. We've been waiting...for each other. So are we starting something? Most definitely. But it's really just a new phase. We were never not _something_, Rick."

When she finishes talking, her face is glowing, her eyes shining, and when he tilts his head and slants his mouth over hers, she is as willing and welcoming and eager as he could ever have hoped for. Her lips part to receive him and she utters a moan filled with so much repressed need as she clings to him. And Castle can't help but feel it too. He feels complete with her. He feels at home here in her arms, and for the first time in as long as he can remember he knows that he is genuinely loved by this extraordinary woman just for being himself alone, for being no more or less than he is - faults and all. And with this realization, he is overcome with a feeling of perfect peace and the wide open promise of all the possibilities yet to come.

* * *

_A/N: To all the writers and readers and friends out there who make this fandom such a happy, inspirational and joyful place to be, I say thank you for everything you have given me personally over this past year. Here's to 2014! May it be a good one for all of us and those we hold dear. And as we say in Scotland on Hogmanay 'Lang ma yer lum reek!' (Translation: 'Long may your chimney smoke') It's an old tradition in Scotland to take a piece of coal with you when visiting friends and family on New Year's Eve (one we no longer practice since hardly anyone has a coal fire anymore!). The coal was placed on the fire to keep it burning and to wish the hosts long life and prosperity. So all the very best for 2014, friends, wherever you are. Liv xx_


	7. Chapter 7 - Finding Solid Ground

_A/N: Happy New Year, fan fiction peeps! Hope 2014 has started well for you. Can't believe we get a new Castle episode tomorrow. Looks like a good one. Anyway, hope you enjoy this update... I've added a short reprise of the last chapter since it's been a few days since the last one. _

* * *

**_Chapter 7 – Finding Solid Ground_**

_Previously..._

_Kate is cracking eggs into a bowl when she feels his hands land on her hips. He's right behind her, his body radiating heat into her skin in the stuttering instant when she stops what she's doing, losing a flake of earth-toned eggshell into the bowl along with the whites and yolks. She freezes, pausing to enjoy the solidity, the reassurance and comfort of having him here - here in this way._

_She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, smiling helplessly as Castle lightly runs his fingers up and down her upper arms. Slowly, quietly, he bends over her, nuzzling his nose into her ponytail before he leans to one side to press the sweetest kiss to the half of her nape that is bare, where she's swept her hair off her neck to one side. A jolt of electricity races down her spine and she clutches at the countertop to keep her knees from buckling._

_Castle moves his hands from her arms back down to her hips, and then he slides one large, warm palm over her stomach, instantly melting her insides. Every neuron in her brain, every synapse and nerve ending is alive with the sensation of him touching her, surrounding her. Muscles contract, shivers and jolts ripple through her body, as she comes alive under his hands._

_"Just to be clear," he whispers behind her ear, his chest grazing her shoulder blades as he brushes the velvety curve of the outer shell with his lips, "we are starting something here?"_

_His question, his need to ask it and the slight shade of doubt in his voice are almost painful to hear._

_Kate drops her own hands from the counter to cover his on her hip and stomach, fingers worming their way into the gaps she manages to open up with faint pressure and a little persistence as she nods. But then her mind begins questioning and she realizes this still isn't enough reassurance for either of them. So she turns within his arms, her bare feet placed between his, and she faces him._

_"Castle," she murmurs, cupping his earnest face in both hands, "we're already so deep into this I can't remember when it started. Do you understand what I'm saying?"_

_He looks at her, waiting patiently for her to say more, to explain more about how she sees them, because he really, really wants to see her vision of them - to see them as she sees them._

_"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't know when I fell in love with you, whether it was one year in or two or maybe even somewhere within the first few months. My point is, we've been together one-way or another more of less from the beginning. It really has just been you and me for a long time. That's how other people see us - Castle and Beckett - a package deal. And nobody messes with that or gets in the middle of it, because even when they did it never lasted."_

_She stretches up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the side of his mouth - a kiss of reassurance._

_"No one ever compared to the way you made me feel. Even when you were getting on my nerves or we were fighting, no one made me feel as special, as...understood, as safe or wanted or as loved as you do. In my head I think I've been spoken for...promised to, for a really long time. Face it, Castle, neither of us has been on a date in…well, forever. And I think there's a simple reason for that. We've been waiting...for each other. So are we starting something? Most definitely. But it's really just a new phase. We were never not something, Rick."_

_When she finishes talking, her face is glowing, her eyes shining, and when he tilts his head and slants his mouth over hers, she is as willing and welcoming and eager as he could ever have hoped for. Her lips part to receive him and she utters a moan filled with so much repressed need as she clings to him. And Castle can't help but feel it too. He feels complete with her. He feels at home here in her arms, and for the first time in as long as he can remember he knows that he is genuinely loved by this extraordinary woman just for being himself alone, for being no more or less than he is - faults and all. And with this realization, he is overcome with a feeling of perfect peace and the wide open promise of all the possibilities yet to come._

* * *

Kate finally lets go of Castle long enough to persuade him to go back to bed. Then she hums and smiles her way through whisking eggs and making toast, feeling a sense of utter ridiculousness at her own happiness. She's giddy with it. Can't believe how good it feels to finally be completely open with him – the ultimate victory snatched from the jaws of defeat when she thinks about how differently last night could have gone. And it's a strong lesson in taking a chance that she means to hold onto and apply more frequently to her life from now on.

After she loads up a tray with fresh orange juice, two plates of scrambled eggs and warm buttered toast, fresh coffee and some fruit, she hurries to the bedroom, singing quietly under her breath, feeling like a different person than she did just the day before. She feels lighter, excited, eager to see Castle and spend time with him though they've been apart all of maybe ten minutes, even if she is a little nervous. It's as if some invisible barrier that existed between them – between the last things keeping them from fully knowing each other – has been lifted; these 'walls' that she once believed in, she supposes, now trampled into nothingness.

When she enters the bedroom, Castle is propped up in bed, sections of the newspaper strewn out across the comforter in a narrow arc around him. He's still wearing Kate's grey NYPD t-shirt, the covers loosely bunched around his waist, and it immediately strikes her just how at ease he looks here - as if he is already a permanent fixture in her home. Kate greets this last thought with more than a flash of terror mixed with an unfamiliar sense of excitement.

* * *

Castle looks up immediately she appears in the doorway, quickly lowering the pages of The Arts section of the newspaper into a crumpled heap on his lap.

"God, you're a sight for sore eyes," he says, and all Kate can think is the exact same thing about him, about finding him here in her bed on a random Saturday morning. A sight for sore eyes.

He checks her out shamelessly, dragging his eyes from her slightly bashful smile, down over her meagerly clad body – the tank top and shorts she slept in leaving most of her on show – her legs and feet still bare.

"I come bearing breakfast, Castle," she reminds him, holding up the tray. "I'm sure that's all this is," she laughs at his evident delight, her eyes sparkling despite the layer of tiredness that lingers after the late night, lack of sleep and the emotional upheaval they've just been through.

Kate places the tray down in the middle of the bed, while Castle hurriedly scoops up sections of the New York Times, haphazardly slotting them back together, and then she climbs in beside him.

"Your apartment is so quiet," marvels Castle, while Kate hands him a napkin, a fork and a plate of eggs and toast.

"Mmm," Kate hums in agreement, nodding, an easy smile on her lips. "That's one of the things I liked about this place when I found it. _That_ and the small roof garden."

"All the times I've been here since you moved in…you never took me up there," remarks Castle, giving her a pouty look.

"Then we shall have to remedy that this very day," grins Kate, feeding him a slice of apple to get him to smile again.

* * *

They eat their breakfast largely in silence, both caught up in their own whirlwind of private thoughts: churning over all the questions, issues and implications that arise out of last night's spate of confessions and revelations. They're being careful with one another, the newness of everything still slightly strange, lending an edge of nervous tension to the situation.

"Whatcha thinking?" Castle finally asks Kate, polishing off his glass of orange juice with a loud "Ah" and a satisfied smack of his lips.

Kate smiles shyly, a strawberry poised at her lips, and then she turns to look at him. "Have you ever feared doing something for a really long time and then when you finally tackle it you wonder why you were so scared after all?"

"Am _I_ the something you just _'tackled'_ by any chance?" asks Castle, smiling mischievously in between sips of his coffee.

"Shh," laughs Kate, poking his arm. "You know what I mean. Why did I wait to do this? That's what I keep wondering. Why did I keep us on ice for so long?"

"On ice?" laughs Castle, somewhat surprised by her choice of words.

"Yeah, you know what I mean. It was as if we were in some kind of suspended animation…a stasis. _We_ – you and me – we always felt…_inevitable_ somehow. Meant to be, you know? At least we did to me," she admits, gnawing on her lip.

Castle's face grows more serious as Kate's take on their relationship washes over him, slowly sinking in. The realization that she's thought about them as much as he has is stunning and completely unexpected. He always believed he was alone in his belief in their ability to form something lasting, something so right that on his most optimistic days it felt as Kate has just described - inevitable - though those days were few and far between.

"For me it was more that I hoped…" Castle confesses, matching her honesty with a few truths of his own, even if it casts him in a weaker, slightly more desperate light. "I hoped until I couldn't anymore. Until it got to be too painful. But nothing ever felt guaranteed. So many things seemed to keep us apart or get in the way."

Kate reaches out and squeezes his arm.

"There were times I—" He shakes his head, unable to articulate what might have been, had it not been for her in the end. "Anyway," he says, clearing his throat, "that's all in the past now."

Kate nods in agreement. "I'm sorry, Castle. But you're right, it is. In the past."

* * *

Castle shakes his napkin onto the tray and then makes a rough attempt at refolding it.

"Breakfast was perfect. Thank you. Just what I needed," he tells her, placing his napkin back onto the tray.

"So…does that mean you're feeling better?" asks Kate a little coyly.

"Much. Why? Did you have something in mind?" he teases, leaning over to kiss her temple.

The kiss is quick and light, natural, but over within the blink of an eye, and then he's leaning back against his own pillows, in his own space once again. They're slightly shy with one another now, almost tentative and timid, unsure in a way they haven't been for years. But then they haven't shared a bed for the night or eaten breakfast together in their nightclothes with declarations of love hovering in the air between them.

Kate collects their dishes, reloads the tray, and then she gets out of bed to take it through to the kitchen.

"Here, you've done enough. Let me," insists Castle, scrambling to pull himself together and get out of bed.

"No. No, you stay here. Gather your strength. I'll be right back," she promises, hurrying out of the bedroom in her bare feet with the tray in her hands.

When Kate returns a couple of minutes later, she's carrying two small bottles of water. She puts one on the table by her own side of the bed and hands one to Castle.

"Drink. Gotta keep hydrated. Only real way to cure a hangover."

When she gets back in beside him, she flattens the covers out over her lap, collapses back against the pillows and then she slaps her hands down either side of her thighs, the whole routine conducted with a strange kind of energetic finality that is really something closer to nerves on her part.

Castle watches her the entire time, amazed at how easy it is to be with this woman he has loved and longed for for so long, though they've engaged in nothing more sexual than some passionate kissing so far.

They look at one another once Kate finally stops moving, the crazy smiles blooming on their faces making them look slightly deranged.

"Look at us," whispers Kate, letting herself tip over so she's leaning against Castle's shoulder. "We look ridiculous."

Castle presses a kiss to her hair before he whispers his answer. "No one can see us, Kate. We can be as ridiculous as we like."

Kate feels around on top of the covers until she finds Castle's hand, and then she wriggles her fingers under his palm, joining them together. She's sitting up in bed with her partner on a Saturday morning and she can think of nowhere else she'd rather be.

"Wanna take a nap?" asks Castle, when her head lands heavily on his shoulder.

"Do you?" asks Kate, turning her head and slanting her eyes until she can see his face.

"I asked you first," he teases, clutching her hand tighter, resting his own head lightly against the top of hers.

"Seems…"

"Decadent?" suggests Castle.

"Mmm. I was actually going to say wasteful. A waste of a day off."

"We're both exhausted, Kate. You hardly slept last night. There will be other days off…lots of them," he promises her, kissing her crown.

He releases her hand, taking the decision for them, and then he helps her to ease down under the covers until they are lying facing one another, each resting on their sides.

They look at one another, studying familiar features as if seeing something new, something fresh, now that certain truths have been shared. It's as if a veil has been lifted. Castle reaches out and smooths an errant curl off Kate's forehead, then he strokes her cheek with the tip of his finger and watches as her eyes drift closed.

She remains that way for several seconds and then just when Castle is about to close his own eyes, when he thinks she's fallen asleep, she opens them again.

* * *

"I can't get used to this," she confesses, biting down on her lip.

"Me being here?"

"Not…no, not just that. Being out the other side of the…the mess we'd got ourselves into. Feels like this weight has been lifted."

"For me too," agrees Castle, nodding, his hair brushing quietly against the fabric of the pillowcase.

"I'm so tired, but I think I'm too excited to sleep," whispers Kate, laughing quietly at her own unfiltered ridiculousness.

"I know the feeling. Just try and relax. We have all weekend and then some. You won't get rid of me easily now, Beckett. You're stuck with me."

Kate reaches out and strokes his cheek. Castle turns his head and kisses her palm, and then he looks up at her again, all the love he feels for her plain to see shining in his eyes.

"Tell me something," he whispers, watching her lashes rise and fall as she blinks slowly. "Something no one else knows about you."

"You mean like a secret?" grins Kate, before wrinkling her forehead into an amused frown.

"I mean anything you can think to share with me?"

Kate purses her lips together and thinks for a few seconds, her cheeks growing flushed as she dances around inside her own brain picking and choosing from the numerous hidden, embarrassing facts she's not sure she wants him to know even now.

"Hey, stop over thinking it," chides Castle, chuckling at her vexed expression. He tweaks her nose and then waits patiently for her to answer him.

"I'm not sure I'm quite ready to explode the myth," replies Kate, playing for time.

"And what myth is that?"

"The myth that gave you Nikki. This…badass, ice cool detective you see in me."

"Kate, you are all of that and then some. But I fell in love with all of you," he tells her, in all seriousness. And this is only the second time he has said it back, the second time he has reaffirmed his feelings towards her since everything blew up in their faces yesterday, and she'd happily hear it again and again without ever tiring of those words.

"I like pink," she blurts suddenly, surprising them both.

They stare at one another wide-eyed for a beat, before dissolving into giggles. Kate buries her face in her hands and her pillow, and Castle tugs on her wrist, trying to prize her hand away from her eyes.

"That's the best you've got? Badass Beckett likes girly pink? Come on there must be more. Something darker, more embarrassing," he cajoles.

"Okay," she says, squaring her shoulders and clearing her throat, like she's gearing up to something big. "I once snuck into one of your book signings."

Castle's eyes widen – two whirlpools of surprised blue – and he clamps one hand over his mouth to suppress an unmanly squeak of excitement.

"It was back when I was working undercover in narcotics."

Castle is frozen silent in anticipation of more details. He nods to encourage her to tell him more.

"I think the security guard thought I was a hooker," she says, before hiding her eyes with her hands again, embarrassed by the memory of that day.

"You—? No wait. You _actually_ came to one of my signings? When was this, Kate? Since we've known each other or…no…no you've never worked narcotics since I—Please tell me I wasn't a jerk?" he begs, his face a tumultuous picture of excitement, concern and regret.

"You weren't a jerk," parrots Kate, laughing at the look of horror that appears on Castle's face.

"Okay, now tell me the truth," groans Castle, settling in for her story.

"I came off the end of a big job. We'd been working in a club overnight, setting up a sting. The drug deal went down around one. We yanked a small cabal of bad guys off the streets, seized a reasonable sized stash, and then went back to the precinct to process the lot. I got off at eleven the next morning. But I was too wired to go home and sleep immediately, so I decided to take a walk…in my undercover getup," she groans, shaking her head at the memory.

"_And?_" encourages Castle, looking at her sideways, his head now resting flat on the pillow.

"_And_…I was passing by the Barnes and Noble store on East 17th Street. You know the one on the top edge of—"

"Union Square. Yes. Of course I know it," says Castle, his voice a mixture of awe and excitement.

"So, anyway, I was walking past the windows and there was this big display. A life-size cardboard cutout of…well, _you_, with stacks of the latest Derrick Storm piled up on either side, which I hadn't had time to buy yet, and there was a poster advertising a book signing which was taking place between ten and two that very day. It felt like fate," says Kate, reaching out to touch Castle's arm.

She trails her fingers up and down the smooth skin on his forearm, watching as goose bumps rise in the path of her touch, and then she looks into his eyes again.

"The line was…shorter by eleven-thirty when I got there. Morning rush was over I guess. I was kind of nervous by the time I got to the front. You tried to flirt with me," she tells him, a mellow, wistful smile on her face.

"Oh God," groans Castle, rolling closer to her and burying his face in the crook of her arm.

"No," she whispers, running her hand through his hair and then leaning closer to kiss his head. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm the one who was dressed head to toe in leather and black lace."

"And I missed that?" squeaks Castle, looking up at her again. "How did I miss that?"

"You didn't miss it at the time. I looked…_ridiculous_. Like an extra from that Madonna video…you know the one for '_Like a Virgin'_?"

"And were you?" purrs Castle, reaching out to grab her, tickling her until she curls her knees up and finds the energy to fight him off.

"Was I what?" she laughs, all out of breath once he lets her go. "A _virgin_?"

Kate shakes her head at him, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks.

"Go on. You can tell me," he whispers, tucking one finger under her chin. And when did they get so close? "Promise I won't judge you," he tells her, leaning in to press his lips against hers, stealing the air from her lungs in the process with a sweet, demanding kiss.

"I was eighteen," she tells him when they inevitably part, forced to seek air. She looks down, a little shyly at first, head ducked at the silence that follows her confession. Then she drags her gaze back up to meet his. "Freshman year of college. Guy from my French Lit class. We dated for a couple of months..._after_ and then we broke up. Stayed friends though. No big deal. No big drama. What about you?"

"I wish I had known you then," says Castle wistfully.

"No. You don't," Kate tells him firmly. "We—it wouldn't have been anything like it is today. We're both different people now. We…we need each other for reasons that didn't exist back then, Castle. So…now _you!_" she grins, tugging on the front of his t-shirt.

"Nah, you're gonna be disappointed in me," he groans, shaking his head and rolling away onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Rick, tell me," she insists, scooting in closer to him, resting her head on his biceps and one hand on his stomach. "Come on. Turn about is fair play."

Castle cringes before he opens his mouth to speak, eyes screwed tightly closed. "I was fourteen," he confesses. "She was…an older woman."

"How much older?" asks Kate, fascinated and only slightly jealous.

"Nineteen. Stella Hartman. Waitress at a diner on 83rd and Lex. She had a car, an old Honda Accord of her dad's. We—anyway, that's enough about me," says Castle, burying his face in her hair.

"Oh, come on," protests Kate, when he refuses point-blank to tell her anything more.

"No, enough about my adolescent fumbling. Tell me more about you. You're much more interesting."

Kate shakes her head, a silly, romantic smile on her face, and then she pulls back a little so that she can look Castle in the eye.

"No. You tell _me_ something. Something you've never told anyone else," she asks, lacing their fingers together.

"But what if I tell you and you hate me?" he asks her, haltingly.

"You haven't killed anyone, have you? Because that could get…well, kind of _awkward_ at work," jokes Kate.

"No. Never committed murder," admits Castle.

"Good. Then what? Come on, it can't be that bad. I promise you'll feel better once you tell me," she coaxes. "A problem shared and all that..."

* * *

Castle gathers himself for a moment and Kate can feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach at how close they are, how easy and fun being with him is today, even if she is still a little nervous.

He runs a hand down over his face, takes a deep breath, and then he swiftly says the words that have been trapped in his head for years, watching carefully for Kate's reaction. "I…I don't think I ever loved Gina."

Kate startles a little. "Oh!" she says, this confession clearly not what she was expecting. "But you married her," she points out, with a puzzled frown.

"I know. I know," groans Castle, covering his eyes with his hand again.

"And then you…you went back to her after we were—"

The tone in Kate's voice grips something inside of Castle strongly enough that he has to look at her to try to fathom where her aborted sentence was leading before she censored the thought.

"After we were what?" he asks, holding onto her wrist.

"Working together," she says swiftly, shrugging as if it's nothing more than that.

"_And_…? What else, Kate? I know that tone. There's more there than you're saying. What is it?"

"Nothing," she says, uselessly denying that there's something, because even she can hear it in her own voice as much as she tries to play it off as insignificant.

"No. No, that is not nothing. Tell me? Is it because I married her and it was…_convenient?_ I mean we worked on paper. We were a good team for a while. I just…" he shrugs. "I didn't love her."

"Wow!" sighs Kate, thinking this enlarged confession has let her off the hook. "That's—no wonder it didn't work out long term."

"Mmm," agrees Castle off-handedly, though the careful way he's studying her face tells her he isn't ready to drop the subject just yet.

"So, come on. What is it about my getting back with Gina when you and I were working together that's put that look on your face?"

"What look?" asks Kate suspiciously, touching her fingers to her face as if she'll be able to decipher what Castle has glimpsed and guessed at just by feeling her own features.

"That…pinched, hurt, disappointed look."

"Pinched, huh?" laughs Kate in surprise. "Didn't take you long to start hurling insults."

"Tell me or I will tickle you until you cry, Detective. And that is one skill I _am_ expert at. Just ask Alexis. I win every time."

Kate sighs. If they're going to be honest with one another she supposes that sharing this little nugget of regret won't hurt.

"You remember when you asked me to go out to the Hamptons with you Memorial Day weekend? It was—"

"Right before I got back with Gina," supplies Castle, the horror of what Kate's about to say already dawning on him. "No," he says, shaking his head. "No. Tell me that I've got it wrong."

Kate shakes her own head, a sympathetic smile on her face. "You haven't got it wrong," she confirms, reaching out to touch his arm. "I…I'd decided to give it a go, to go with you…see how things went. And then…" Kate raises an eyebrow and ducks her head so he can't see the look of disappointment that flashes across her face all this time later.

"And then Gina showed up," fills in Castle, guessing the next part. "We were celebrating with the guys, you said you wanted to tell me something," he recalls. "Is _that_—?"

Kate nods.

"You were going to tell me…yes? That…that you were coming with me?"

"Look, I don't even know if things would have worked between us back then, Castle," she adds hastily, trying to make him feel better. "Maybe…maybe we would have crashed and burned. Who knows?"

"And maybe we would have been great," he suggests, his tone regretful and plaintive. "I'm such an ass."

Kate laughs. "No. No, you're not. You were dealing with _me_, remember? I wasn't…_haven't_ exactly been the most open of partners."

"Promise me no more misunderstandings like that, Kate? I don't think my poor old heart could take it."

"I promise," she whispers, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Now, if we decided to make up for lost time…say…_now_. Would your poor old heart be able to cope or should I call Dispatch and have a bus on standby just in case?" giggles Kate, burying her face in the soft cotton covering his stomach.

* * *

When Castle suddenly reaches for her, grasping her around her waist, fingers pressing into soft curves, she squeals in surprise. He lifts her on top of him, and she is staggered by the sensation of this full body contact for the first time; how powerful and erotic it feels. Her thighs part either side of his hips, their pelvises pressed together by the weight of her body lying on top of his. She rests her elbows either side of his neck, loose curls tumbling forward to enclose them in a dark, private space, and then she kisses him for all she's worth.

She kisses him for all the times they messed up and missed out, lied and hid and kept each other waiting. She kisses him so that he can feel just how deeply she loves him, because more than anything that's the one truth she wants him to grasp and understand above all else – that he is loved by her without reserve; no caveats, no provisos, no strings from now on.

* * *

_TBC... More to come, if you're still engaged with this tale. Love to hear your thoughts. _


	8. Chapter 8 - Weighing Anchor

_A/N: Apologies for the delay in updating. Sometimes you need to take a little break and refresh. I think it's that January blues thing. :)_

_Excited to see Stana attend the PCA's tonight. My fingers and toes are crossed for her, the guys and the show itself. I know she'll be elegant, graceful and charming as usual. Whatever happens she'll make us all proud._

* * *

**_Chapter 8 – Weighing Anchor_**

_Previously..._

_When Castle suddenly reaches for her, grasping her around her waist, fingers pressing into soft curves, she squeals in surprise. He lifts her on top of him, and she is staggered by the sensation of this full body contact for the first time; how powerful and erotic it feels. Her thighs part either side of his hips, their pelvises pressed together by the weight of her body lying on top of his. She rests her elbows either side of his neck, loose curls tumbling forward to enclose them in a dark, private space, and then she kisses him for all she's worth._

_She kisses him for all the times they messed up and missed out, lied and hid and kept each other waiting. She kisses him so that he can feel just how deeply she loves him, because more than anything that's the one truth she wants him to grasp and understand above all else – that he is loved by her without reserve; no caveats, no provisos, no strings from now on._

* * *

The world tips on its axis for one heart stopping, delicious, unnerving second and then settles briefly, equilibrium restored. Their lips are still fused, his weight now on top of her, pressing her into the mattress where he's just flipped them over. And it's such an amazing feeling – his body holding hers down – that she never wants it to end.

The sheets are tangled around their legs and bodies, her pillow lying somewhere north of her head, but she doesn't care. Castle's hands are still on her hips, fingers spanning her lower back, kneading at the base of her spine, the top of her buttocks. The man is talented she's quickly discovering – hands in so many different places at once that it's dizzying trying to keep up. But it's his mouth, fused hotly with hers that robs her of coherent thought. Her lips are parted, slanted wetly over Castle's, as they breath heavily through their noses. But air has become such a minor detail when there is this – Richard Castle's tongue pulsing demandingly between her open lips, overriding any and all reasoning for not doing this right now.

This situation is so emotionally charged. And they haven't talked about how sleeping together might change things - about Alexis, or work or the loss of the friendship they've both come to value, rely on and care so much about. He was hungover last Kate looked, both of them exhausted by the long night, their fight in that bar, the pitiful, painful exposition of her past. Only none of that matters now, here in this perfect moment.

* * *

Kate's grip on Castle's shoulders slips when he finally pulls back to stare at her.

"Whoa. Whoa, Kate, Kate, Kate," he chants, cupping her face, steadying her, pulling her focus back to the here and now, quieting down her sudden burning desperation.

Kate looks shocked as she stares up at him, her chest heaving now that she's free to gasp for air, sucking much needed oxygen back into her lungs. Every intake of breath brushes her already taut and over sensitized nipples against his chest, leaving her aching with want for more of him, even through two layers of cotton.

She slides one hand through his hair, cups the back of his head and attempts to draw him back down into another soul-surrendering kiss. But Castle is having none of it.

"Wha—?" she pants, freeing her other hand from its fisted grip on his t-shirt to wipe at her damp, swollen lips. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Why are you stopping?"

Castle catches the flash of panic and hurt that Kate is too slow to hide from him, and he shakes his head quickly since it's faster than finding the words straight off.

"I—I just think maybe we should slow things down."

Kate's eyes widen. "Slow down? Slow down _why?_"

"_Why?_" He laughs at her unexpected question that is really a poorly disguised objection. "Why…because…because we were supposed to be taking a nap," he says, fumbling around for any better reason and failing to find one.

"_A_ _nap?_" asks Kate, her voice heavy-laden with incredulity. He might as well have said _robbery_ - _'Because we were supposed to be planning a robbery, Beckett'_.

"Yeah," grins Castle, giving in to her confused look as she lies stunned beneath him. But she's too adorable, so he kisses her again, only gently this time. It's like a new hobby, an obsession; he can't get enough of kissing her.

"We're three and some years into this, I've got you in my bed for the first time, we've been kissing like we were made to do this, Castle, I mean…_wow!_ And you want to take a nap? _Really?_"

The woman does sarcasm better than anyone he's ever known, and maybe she has a point.

"When you put it like that it doesn't sound so…"

"Sane? Smart? Plausible?" suggests Kate, rattling off suggestions that make it clear which of them is better at multitasking, if that were ever in doubt.

* * *

Kate suddenly moves beneath him, squirming slightly; a wicked circle of her hips that she tries to pass off as innocent, knowing full well that it's not. Far from it. And Castle might be playing serious and sensible, but his body is up to all sorts of…_other_ things too. Things she's determined to enjoy more of.

"_Kate_," he warns, fingers dropping from her cheek to grip her hips and stop them moving beneath him.

"What?" she asks innocently, eyelashes fluttering and cheeks flushed as pink as her well-kissed lips.

"You know what," he laughs, his body shaking with mirth on top of her. "Stop moving and _stop_ trying to play the innocent. It doesn't work for you. Trying to look like some kind of ingénue, when you're clearly…_not_. Okay! Enough, Miss Beckett," he declares, when Kate shifts her hips up against his again, making his eyes startle wide.

"Are you saying I'm too _old_ for that role, _Rick?_" she asks, her tongue clicking sharply against the roof of her mouth with the utterance of his first name.

Castle's already shaking his head as she smirks at him. "I would…no, no, never too old for…for anything, Kate," he whispers, grinning down at her.

"Good. Because before _we_ – either of us – get any older, I think we should—"

Before she can complete that thought, her cell phone rings. They both freeze and then Kate turns her head to stare at the nightstand where her iPhone is currently flashing and vibrating its way across the surface like some flashy, attention-seeking, dollar-a-dance stripper.

"You'd better get that," says Castle, quickly easing off of her onto his own side of the bed.

"No, don't—" protests Kate, reaching for him, for any part of him she can grab onto.

But it's too late. Castle is already sitting up and then he swings his feet to the floor, clears his throat, gives her a little parting wave before he heads for the bathroom to let her answer the call in private.

* * *

"_Beckett!_" snaps Kate, sitting up and crossing her bare legs, the phone angrily pressed to her ear. She runs a hand through her hair as she impatiently listens to the staccato voice on the other end of line.

"But, Sir—"

Kate vaguely hears the toilet flush and then the sound of water running in the en suite, while she listens to Captain Gates' rapid-fire instructions over the phone.

"Sir, I'm not supposed to be on call for another twelve hours. Have you tried one of the others? You have, right. And it's—" she pauses to listen, fingers pressed to her tender lips. "Okay, so not immediately? Right. Good. Yes, I'll be here. Anytime, Sir," she lies, making a face at the phone as she hangs up.

Castle is leaning against the bathroom doorframe when she turns around to look for him, after slamming her cell phone down on the nightstand.

"Trouble?" he asks, wincing at the force she applies to her phone.

"Stomach flu spreading through the Precinct like wildfire apparently. That or the nasty takeout the night squad insists on ordering from that cheap dive around the corner."

"The place that failed its last two Health inspections?" asks Castle, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"The very one," she grouses, slapping her hand down on the mattress in frustration.

"Was that Gates?"

Kate nods.

"Did she call you in?"

Kate sighs, her shoulders slumping. She toys with the edge of the sheet. "No. Not yet. She was phoning to warn me that she's had to bring my on-call status forward."

"Forward? By how much?"

"Basically...I'm on-call now. A body drops in Manhattan and, as of midday, it's mine."

When Castle doesn't say anything, Kate looks up, hazarding a glance in his direction.

"Ever feel the universe is trying to tell us something?" he asks, sinking down onto the bed beside her.

"No. _Oh, no_. I will have _none_ of that talk," chides Kate, switching positions on the bed so that she can face him. "Look, there are days when I'm on call and the phone never rings."

"Right," says Castle, his tone one of utter disbelief and despondency. "And when was the last time _that_ happened?"

"It happens," insists Kate. She shakes her head and grins when he levels a serious look at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Okay, so I don't remember the last time _exactly_. But it just means we have to make the most of the time we _do_ have. Anyway, it's a Saturday."

"And...what? People don't commit homicide on Saturday?"

"Shh," she laughs, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't ruin my theory with your logic, Castle. Let's just enjoy ourselves while we can."

"And what if the phone rings? What then?"

"Then…then we'll deal with it as and when it happens."

"Kate, this is what I was talking about earlier. How is this going to work? Tomorrow…_today_? We need to talk about that."

She reaches for his hand, clasps it between her own and then she looks him straight in the eye. "However we want it to. It'll work however we decide, Castle."

"O-_kay_," he says slowly, sounding a little unconvinced. "So...just for argument sake, Dispatch calls and you have to go to a scene. What happens then?"

"What usually happens when I get a call. We go to the crime scene."

"But do we go together or…" Castle shrugs, his face expectant, needing a serious answer from her.

"Right now, _today_?" asks Kate, surprising Castle when she runs her palm down over his cheek, an amused but newly tender look in her eyes. "It might be better if you showered and shaved first. The beach bum, surfer dude look is…_so_ sexy and, if I have my way, _definitely_ something we will be exploring more in the future. But you might not want to let the guys see you looking like this before we get a chance to…" Kate shrugs.

"There!" says Castle, pointing at her. "That shrug. What does that mean?"

"Before we get a chance to get used to this ourselves. That's all I meant."

"You're sure?" he asks, sounding skeptical, eyes a little narrowed.

"Want me to show you just how sure I am?" counters Kate, getting even closer.

"What if the phone rings?" asks Castle, eyeing Kate's cell phone with suspicion.

"Pretend it isn't even there," suggests Kate, rocking back on her heels to pick it up and shove it in her bedside cabinet. "There. Gone!" she says, slamming the top drawer closed.

Castle laughs in surprise. "You know it's not that simple. If they call you, you _will _have to go, Kate."

"Better get used to it then," she whispers, kneeling up on the bed to kiss him. "Because they call me _a lot_."

* * *

This is not going the way that she'd hoped. Castle might not be drunk anymore and his hangover might be wearing off, but he is still far from relaxed. She has long dreamt about their first time together: about just how easy and fulfilling and hot and erotic it would be once they finally admitted to one another how they felt. But this isn't that. She's having to talk him into it, persuade him, and the call from Gates hasn't helped either, since it's made them both self-conscious and tense. The whole thing has put him on-edge.

Kate releases his lips with a pop and sits back, putting a little distance between them. She needs to fix this.

"Okay. Cards on the table time," she says, after taking a deep breath.

Castle stares expectantly at her, wondering what the hell is coming now.

"This is not turning out to be as easy as I thought it would be. Not that I've exactly thought this…_this now_," she says, waving a hand between them, "through in any great detail."

Castle had his head cocked to one side and he's kind of wincing, as if concentrating really hard trying to understand a concept being explained to him in some complex, hard to interpret, foreign language.

Kate gets up off the bed at this point to pace, feeling better able to just spill her guts if she's on the move.

"Well, I have…kind of…imagined us, I mean. But, anyway, that's beside the point," she says, rambling on through her almost delirious exhaustion. "My point is," she sighs, pausing in her pacing to let her shoulders drop, "being 'with you-with you', if you know what I mean, was supposed to be natural. Not all..._awkward_ and full of should we's and what if's."

"I—I'm sorry, Kate," interrupts Castle, looking pretty horrified. "If feel like this is my fault."

"It's nobody's fault," she sighs, taking another deep cleansing breath, hands pressed against her sternum, and then letting it out slowly.

"So, what do we do?" asks Castle, still looking to her for all the answers.

Kate stops to think for a second and then she abruptly leaves the bedroom.

"_Kate?_" yells Castle, wondering what on earth she's doing now.

He hears water running in the next room and then her head reappears around the door of the bathroom.

"I'm running a bath," she explains, giving him a wink and perky smile.

"Oh." Castle looks something close to disappointed.

"Come on," she says, waving him inside.

"_Me?_" he asks, pointing to himself, sounding a little panicked.

"Unless you're too shy," she teases, face still peaking around the bathroom door, until she abruptly disappears inside.

* * *

_TBC... I'm not rushing this. Hope you'll bear with me. And the Fan Fiction site has been playing up the last couple of days, failing to send out story alerts etc. So in case you missed it, I did publish a post-ep one-shot for 6x11 yesterday called 'Hold Me Up'. That's why this update was a little delayed._


	9. Chapter 9 - Drifting

_A/N: No throwing iPads or dropping laptops. It took them over three years to get here, so this takes as long as it takes to work out. More assertive Kate and hesitant Castle because that's how they both were around this time, when she had new confidence and certainty over what she wanted, while he was slowly losing faith. _

* * *

**_Chapter 9 – Drifting_**

Castle hesitates on the bed just as long as it takes for Kate to slip one pointed, painted set of toes out of the bathroom door. Before his very eyes she slowly slides her long, bare, toned, tanned leg up and down the doorframe. He can see immediately that Kate Beckett is far more talented than any professional stripper - with her elegant tease and classy allure - and in the next heartbeat he also knows with a resounding certainty that he is a goner.

She has him body, mind, heart and soul.

So when she dangles her cotton camisole around the doorjamb and then tosses it out into the bedroom with unfettered abandon, _that's_ when he sprints, feet briefly skidding on her bedroom rug, arms pinwheeling in midair, like The Road Runner chasing Wile E. Coyote, until he manages to catch himself on the dresser and slides to a sudden halt. He takes a moment to calm himself - flattens his hands down over his wrinkled shirt, smoothes his hair and pats his mouth - attempting to compose himself before he faces the playful vixen Detective Beckett is turning into before his eyes.

He takes a deep breath, puffs out his chest, and is on the point of entering the bathroom, when Kate's tiny cotton shorts hit him square in the face. He catches them when they drop down off his nose to land on his chest.

His mouth is hanging open when Kate's cheeky, grinning face appears around the door. Water thunders into the tub behind her, but he can still hear her giggling above the musical soundtrack of running water.

"Did you just—?" he gasps, as she doubles over, hands pressed to her knees, struggling for breath.

He holds her sleep shorts out to her and she snatches them back, tossing them into a laundry hamper in the corner beneath the sink.

"I'm sorry," she gasps, tears swimming in her eyes from laughing so hard. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

She's wrapped in a very short, white, fluffy towel, her shoulders and arms completely exposed, along with her legs all the way south of mid-thigh.

"You just did a strip tease…for _me_," says Castle, still not sure exactly how to respond, since it's kind of out of character for her.

But then there isn't much about any of this situation that isn't out of character for both of them.

"You don't seem…entirely thrilled," Kate points out, still chuckling, but trying to get her laughter under control for Castle's sake.

"No, I'm—Oh, _bath!_" he says, lunging past her to reach for the faucet. "About to overflow," he explains, quickly turning off the water.

When he straightens up, he's standing right next to her, and Kate turns towards him – fluid, natural, without a second's hesitation. She's a few inches shorter in her bare feet, and she looks up at him with such absolute trust in her eyes. He feels his stomach somersault and his heart rate speed up. She takes hold of his hands for a brief second, squeezes them both and then she lets go again to run her hands all the way up his arms, finally curling her fingers around his biceps to hold onto him.

"Stop fighting this, Rick," she whispers, letting her body fall into his, landing softly against his chest. "It's time to give in. I love you. I'm not going to hurt you," she promises, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Castle freezes for a second. But what she's saying suddenly strikes him as so simple, so straightforward, and he breathes out in pure relief, wrapping his arms tightly around her, finally cradling her against his body.

He rests his chin on top of her head, revelling in just how perfectly she fits against him. "I love you too, Kate," he whispers, pressing his lips against her hair. "Look at me," he begs, tipping his head down so that he can see her when she looks up at him. "Don't ever doubt that."

Kate nods, smiles weakly and then she stretches up on tiptoe to kiss him.

* * *

They start off slow, a gentle, tender exploration, their lips barely brushing until the tingle becomes a burn and the kiss turns bruising when the fire inside both of them is allowed to burn freely. Kate lifts her arms up, slides her hands through his hair and then entwines herself around his neck, her carefully knotted towel forgotten.

Castle's breathing is erratic, his heart racing, as he finally gives in to the need and painful, fragile hope he's been carrying around like a stone in his chest for years. He breaks away from Kate's mouth to kiss her cheeks, her eyelids. He hears her breathy laughter when he peppers kisses over her forehead, her nose and chin – a light, tinkling, joyful sound that spurs him on to make more of that very same music. And then he catches the sharp intake of breath when he drags his mouth down over her jaw and across her tender neck, hoping his stubble isn't hurting her soft skin.

Her fingers clutch at his shoulder and the back of his shirt when he sucks and licks at the pale skin of her throat, tongue darting out to capture a bead of perspiration that trickles down her neck to land in the perfect dip at the heart of her clavicle.

"Yes," she hisses, when he sucks her earlobe into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the shell. "Yes, yes, Castle. Oh, God," she moans, curling herself around him, pulling him down towards her so that she can kiss the nape of his neck, wrapping him up in her own body, strong, warm arms holding him close.

Stunned, they pull apart a few seconds later, both panting for breath, their cheeks flushed and pulses racing.

"See," Kate whispers, cupping his face in her hands to focus his attention, searching his stormy, wild eyes with her own. "Tell me you don't feel that," she challenges him, placing her hand on his thundering heart, before she lifts his hand, presses it over her own racing heart and holds it there. "We can be good at this too, Castle. We're gonna be so good at this," she whispers, stretching up to kiss him again. "We are. We're gonna be so good at this," she chants, brushing her open lips over his neck as she reaches for the hem of his t-shirt.

She begins to lift his shirt, raising it to ribcage level until he gets the idea and then she takes a step back to give him room - and frankly just to watch - as he takes over for her, lifting the NYPD shirt over his head and stripping it off completely.

Her bottom lip is drawn in between her teeth, the kiss-swollen flesh blanched white, while her eyes are fixed on his bare chest. And she stands still in utter silence just worshiping him with her shameless, brazen gaze. She briefly flicks her eyes up to look at his face and finds _him_ watching her. They share a moment of recognition and something that approximates agreement, a pact between them. This powerful, highly charged frisson ignites a spark, crackles, the flash of heat and then the slow flickering burn as the fire between them takes hold again.

Kate steps in close, hands reaching out to touch him. Her cheeks are flushed, the front of the towel, now barely knotted, rises and falls jerkily with each stuttering breath she takes, and Castle believes he can almost see her heart pounding beneath her skin. She places her hands on his pectorals, and he burns with desire, relief, potential, excitement, lust and overwhelming love for this courageous, extraordinary woman. He watches, astounded, breath held, as she smoothes her hands across his chest, up towards his shoulders and then back down over his torso in a blazing, lazy trail of scorching fingers and gazing palms, following every stroke and movement with her eyes. Every inch of him tingles as little jolts of electrical energy race out across his skin.

"You look amazing. You…you _feel _amazing," she breathes, her voice catching in her throat as a bubble of nervous laughter escapes along with her wonder at being able to touch him like this for the very first time.

"You sound surprised," says Castle, and Kate's head immediately snaps up to look at him.

He's smiling, that laid-back Castle smile she's so used to. But this…this is anything but usual for both of them.

"I'm—_no!_ Not surprised at all. Just…in awe, I think," she confesses, so far beyond filtered thought that Castle almost laughs.

"Awe?" he chokes with a smirk, laughing when she cringes and buries her warm face in his chest.

"Shut up," she growls, nipping at the cords of his powerful neck with her teeth in at tiny act of revenge.

He slides one arm around her back and draws her tight against his body until the knot of her towel is pressed between them. "I have to go out drinking and let you come rescue me more often, if this is what it leads to," he tells her, stroking one hand down over her hair.

"No." Kate shakes her head, and then leans in to press a gentle kiss over his heart. "No need for that. I plan on telling you…a _whole_ lot more just how you make me feel. Don't worry. From now on you won't be able to shut me up," she giggles, when Castle drops one hand to her ass and squeezes.

"Is that so?" he asks, crowding against her.

"Mmm-hmm," she hums, licking her lips before she kisses her way down the midline of his stomach, watching in delight as his abs jump and contract under her touch.

* * *

Castle eyes the bath she just ran over her shoulder. The water is still hot, steaming above the surface of the tub. If she gets called out it really would be better if they had bathed at least, since it's been more than twenty-four hours since he last showered.

"Hey," he says, leaning back a little, and then cupping her cheek with his hand, "how about we take that bath?"

Kate's eyes light up and he notices the slight hitch in her breathing at his fairly bold suggestion.

"You sure?" asks Kate, her fingers already skating around the waistband of his boxer shorts and sneakily dipping underneath.

"If you are?" counters Castle, eyeing up the loose knot on the front of her towel.

Kate's face becomes serious again in that infinitesimal dead space between heartbeats.

"You okay?" asks Castle with concern, lightly touching her bare shoulder.

She nods, but tears well in her eyes, and though she tries to smile through them, they fall, splashing down her cheeks and onto her arm.

"Hey, what's all this?" asks Castle, roughly pulling her in for another hug. He holds her, rocking them both from side-to-side. "We don't have to do anything, Kate. We can take this as slow as you want. I know the last twenty-four hours has been exhausting and emotional."

"No," she whispers, sniffing and wiping at her damp cheeks. "You don't understand. I'm happy, Castle. I'm so happy for once in my life…that finally I get to be with you. I've been holding back for so long," she laments, clinging onto him. "So, let's just take that bath before it gets cold."

Castle turns away to give her some privacy when she unfastens her towel and lets it drop to the floor at her feet. But she tugs on his hand, turning him back towards her.

"You _can_ look, you know," she tells him, the most open, vulnerable expression he's ever seen written across her face. "I really don't mind. In fact, I think I'd maybe prefer if you did…_look_, I mean."

He meets her eyes, and at first he can't look any further down. But then she smiles softly and nods to reassert her permission, and he drops his gaze slowly down the entire length of her body, pausing now and again to absorb some detail he finds fascinating or mesmerizing along the way.

He takes a sharp breath in, one hand rising to cover his mouth, and his eyebrows shoot up in exclamation, while he uses the other hand to hold her arm out to the side as he appreciates all of her by the soft, muted glow of the bathroom light.

He shakes his head, at a loss for a second, while Kate watches him admire her naked body for the first time. It is a powerful, beautiful, perfect moment of intimacy shared by both of them.

"Stunning, Kate," he says reverently when he eventually finds his voice. "You're simply stunning. Beautiful, perfect…I—I don't know what else to say," he shrugs, shaking his head helplessly.

Kate smiles and squeezes his hand before letting it go. "Thank you," she replies, dipping her head a little submissively. "But perfect? Even with these? I don't know," she says, bringing her own hand up to touch the scar between her breasts and the second surgical incision between her ribs, both of which he saw but didn't linger over.

Castle shakes his head and reaches out without thinking towards the scar that marks the bullet's entry point into her chest. Kate guides his fingers until they're resting against her marred skin, watching as he lightly touches both scars in quiet, gentle veneration.

"You don't understand," he tells her, looking back up to meet her eyes. "You're perfect to me," he argues, stepping even closer. "I _hate_ that this happened to you, I do. But you're _here_, Kate. _Alive_. You survived, and these marks are a testament to that, to your strength. So if anything, they make you _more_ not less in my eyes," he says, smoothing his hand down over her ponytail.

* * *

Kate nods silently, kisses his fingertips to thank him and then she turns away and bends to trail her fingers through the bathwater to test the temperature.

"Perfect," she tells him, jerking her head towards the water to encourage him to get in with her.

Castle is naked except for his boxer shorts, and now that his moment to perform has arrived he's getting a slight attack of shyness that he doesn't quite understand. He was becoming aroused by the kissing and the touching they've engaged in so far. And finally seeing Kate naked has tipped him further over the edge.

But Kate makes it easy for him. She rests one hand on his arm for balance and braces herself to step over the side into the tub. The water swirls around her legs, steam billowing up into the warm air.

"Come on. Get in behind me," she tells him, turning her back on him and crouching down beneath the waterline, before scooting forward to make space for him.

Castle hesitates for just a second before he strips his shorts down over his thighs and steps out of them. Then he lifts one leg over the side of the tub. His manhood bobs in midair. Kate busies herself unwrapping a new bar of soap until he settles down behind her.

His body surrounds hers, and she gradually rests back against his chest. His legs slide down to settle either side of hers, dwarfing her with his muscular physique.

"You good?" she asks, looking back at him briefly, her face flushed and glowing with perspiration from the heat of the bath.

Castle nods and smiles a little stiffly.

Kate takes each of his arms and wraps them around her, encouraging him to hold her. Finally she feels him let go a little, his body sinking back against the end of the tub, muscles relaxing, his breathing deepening and evening out.

"Just try to relax," Kate tells him, a little surprised by this tentative version of Castle that she's stumbled across.

She has no fear that he will be anything short of a spectacular lover, and she knows that she is mostly to blame for the hesitancy and care he's displayed up until now. Her lie hurt and shocked him, the exposition of the truth took a lot out of both of them. She will have to work to regain his trust. Nonetheless, she wants him to enjoy himself as much as she intends to their first time together.

* * *

"Think the phone will ring?" Castle asks her eventually, as they float in the womblike warmth of the bathtub.

Kate laughs in surprise, her shoulders shaking and her breasts bobbing in the buoyancy of the water when she tips forward a little and then turns to look back at him.

The hardness of his arousal presses against her spine and she quickly eases back into her original position.

"Stop thinking about the phone or you'll make it happen," she warns him, with a rueful grin.

"Right. Sorry," he apologizes, stifling a chuckle.

Silence stretches out and Kate is just beginning to wonder whether Castle might have fallen asleep, when he suddenly speaks again. "I would have waited for you, Kate," he tells her, burying his nose in her ponytail.

"What?" she asks, startling slightly out of her own warm, sleepy haze.

"The lie…yesterday. I would have gotten over it…eventually."

"Castle, you shouldn't have had to wait or deal with my lies," she insists, disturbing the water around them as she twists to look back at his face once more.

"Okay. But I don't want you thinking that I'm only here because you ripped open your past for me. All those private thoughts in your journal…I'd hate to think you felt you had to show those to me just to keep me around. Because I would have waited without that," he repeats, pressing a kiss to the dip in her shoulder when she leans back against him again.

"Fine," she sighs, lacing her fingers with his and resting their joined hands on top of her stomach. "But at least you know everything now. And you won't have to wonder about that time anymore."

"True," he concedes, before continuing in a drier tone. "Other than hating myself for not following you up there and breaking down the door."

"Oh, my dad would have loved that," she chuckles, nudging him playfully. "And would you just _stop!_" she declares, her whole body shaking with laughter. "We're over this. Okay? We agreed. There are plenty of new, more _fun_ things we need to be learning about one another," she tells him, flirtation clear in her tone and in the way she suddenly begins to move against him, as she strokes her fingers up and down his left thigh.

Castle grips her hip, his other hand still woven with hers and pressed against her stomach.

"Careful, Kate," he growls. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Oh, I intend to finish and then start this up all over again," she warns him in a low, roughened voice, deciding it's time to give them both a gentle nudge forward.

"What if you get called out?" he reminds her again, glancing towards the bedroom where her cell phone is still stowed away in a drawer.

"_Even_ if I get called out," she promises, her nails digging into the muscle of his thigh for emphasis. "So, let's both drop the shy, retiring routine, Castle. I would really like you to touch me now," she says, guiding his hand down across her stomach and between her legs, their fingers still laced together. "_Please?_" she begs with so much want in her voice. "I need you, Castle," she whispers, her breathing becoming labored, her skin flushed and her eyes drifting closed.

TBC...

* * *

_A/N: Blame this cliffhanger on BlueOrchid96, my bomb buddy. She said it was a good place to stop! :) Love to hear your thoughts. Quick reminder that death threats are a federal offence as Mr. Fillion recently pointed out. ;)_


	10. Chapter 10 - Gliding

_A/N: Change of rating for this chapter to M, folks, for language and adult themes. Not suitable for reading at work or maybe on the bus or train if you're overlooked. You were warned._

* * *

**_Chapter 10 – Gliding_**

_Previously..._

_Castle grips her hip, his other hand still woven with hers and pressed against her stomach._

_"Careful, Kate," he growls. "Don't start something you can't finish."_

_"Oh, I intend to finish and then start this up all over again," she warns him in a low, roughened voice, deciding it's time to give them both a gentle nudge forward._

_"What if you get called out?" he reminds her again, glancing towards the bedroom where her cell phone is still stowed away in a drawer._

_"Even if I get called out," she promises, her nails digging into the muscle of his thigh for emphasis. "So, let's both drop the shy, retiring routine, Castle. I would really like you to touch me now," she says, guiding his hand down across her stomach and between her legs, their fingers still laced together. "Please?" she begs with so much want in her voice. "I need you, Castle," she whispers, her breathing becoming labored, her skin flushed and her eyes drifting closed._

* * *

The water moves around them, caressing their tingling skin, almost viscous in its warmth, as Kate drops her head back against Castle's steam slicked shoulder and attempts to slow her breathing.

Castle is fighting a battle of his own given where they find themselves right now – both naked in Kate's bathtub, her slender form constantly brushing against his, every inch of him alive to the glancing touches and gentle, suspended weight of her indescribably beautiful body which is now in the process of resettling against his.

Their fingers are still laced together as they skate over the smooth skin of her abdomen, weaving a languorous path backwards and forwards. Castle forces them to linger, resists Kate's haste to get down to business. He stalls, sweeps back upwards, retracing their steps to brush the underside of her breast with his thumb, and he can't help but smile when Kate lets a sigh of pure bliss escape her lips and shudders under his intuitive touch.

He's intent on taking his time. He's almost overwhelmed to finally be here and he wants her to understand just how much their closeness and her trust means to him.

"Slowly," he whispers, tightening his fingers between hers for a brief second to capture her attention. "We've waited years for this, Kate. Let's not rush it."

She murmurs her agreement and he feels such a swell of love for her – love and excitement – that this is them now, they're going to make it after all, they're going to make a go of this and they're going to be great.

"Love you," he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to the pale curve of bone behind her right ear that has her squeezing his fingers in tender, wordless reply.

Eventually, he can feel her straining to move onwards, her hips circling slightly against the base of the tub signaling her eagerness to be touched more intimately, and he permits her a brief second to lead again, angling their joined hands south once more. They move deeper beneath the still crystal clear water, and he strokes past the dip of her navel, trailing his thumb over and across the neatly indented dip, before moving on down towards the soft line of her curls.

Kate shudders when he pauses there to fondle her playfully, the lightest caressing brush of his fingertips, and then when she can't stand it anymore she forces his fingers to stall in their tease, pressing his hand onto the bony mound of her pubis, halting just above where she really wants him.

Castle has his mouth open on her neck and she feels hot and feverish as he kisses and then sucks on her throbbing pulse point.

"Relax, Kate," he whispers, licking her ear so that she shivers, her nipples tightening even harder when she shifts, spreading her thighs wider in anticipation. Her breasts rise above the waterline briefly, drawing Castle's attention.

* * *

Asking him to touch her was mildly uncomfortable on two levels. Firstly, since they haven't done this before. Much as she's sure they have both probably thought and fantasized about it a lot, even holding hands was a big deal for them. So this progression is huge, and secondly, given the emotional trauma they've had to help one another through over the last twelve hours, she's not surprised that Castle has been a little reticent and careful about pushing the boundaries any further or faster.

She had retained a vain hope that when she finally gave him the green light on their relationship, he would somehow magically shift gears, step things up quite naturally and that they would segue seamlessly into a new phase of intimacy. She realizes now that she was vastly naïve in that hope; that she underrated her partner and his ability to be sensitive, careful, and also easily hurt. These more mature, principled and gentlemanly traits overriding the simple physical attraction she knows they've both been resisting for years. She also underestimated how damaged his trust in her would be by her own cowardly lies.

She is blessed that he such a kind, gentle and forgiving man, and she silently vows to do her best never to let him down again.

Her attention shift from such introspection when Castle raises his knees slightly so that they appear above the waterline, giving her more room to move her legs beneath his.

She lets their hands hover for a second, wanting him to make the next move further down, and he doesn't disappoint. But before she can focus on and enjoy the sensation of him touching her, she feels the caress of his other hand, which is suddenly cupping the weight of her left breast, his thumb circling the soft swell of her areola and the hard bud of her nipple, drawing it up and out of the water.

"Oh, God, yes," she hisses, when he pinches the taut, pink peak between thumb and forefinger before rolling it in the center of his cupped palm. The cool air makes her skin tingle and her fingers tighten around his thighs and squeeze.

His muscles are hard, immense almost, and she can't quite get to grips with being able to touch him either. His body feels so good beneath her hands, her fingers; smooth skin and the light coating of hair on his legs against the firm musculature and definition of his thighs that has never been done a service by his dress pants or the casual jeans he wears, she can now see. Her hands look tiny, dwarfed by the impressive bulk of his rock hard quads, and God if this isn't doing it for her even more.

She makes a mental note to tell him this and maybe suggest they go shopping at some point to pick out pants for him that will do his physique better justice. And now she can't believe she's mentally planning shopping trips, while her partner of three-plus some years is playing with her naked breasts. Her thought process is so garbled and muddled by love, lust and excitement that she almost laughs aloud at her own ridiculousness.

But then Castle's deep voice cuts through the overactive melee going on inside her head to snap her brain back to attention.

* * *

"Kate?" he whispers, smoothing her hair away from her damp neck with his cheek and nose to kiss the top of her spine. "Let me, okay?" he asks, easing his fingers out from between hers to take control of her pleasure by himself.

She's more than happy to give him control. She feels dizzy with the heat of the water, the steamy bathroom air, her racing pulse, the feel of Castle's naked, unquestionably masculine body finally surrounding her. She's high with desperate anticipation of the intimate acts they're engaging in now. But she can't find any words to answer him, so she tips her head back, twisting to capture his mouth in a lazy, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, arching back against him to open her body up to his explorative touch.

Her tongue darts between his open lips as his middle finger finally grazes her clit and begins to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Kate hisses and Castle catches the sound is a hungry kiss, as he begins to feed off her eager mouth, tangling her tongue with his own and then breaking the seal to flick it wetly against her top lip.

Her chest heaves, breasts arching out above the waterline. Waves ripple out to lap at the sides of the bathtub and then bounce back in; the entire surface a fragmented plane of broken, flashing reflections, snapshots of light refracted and deflected off the water's choppy surface.

"Rick, please," begs Kate, her lips moving listlessly against his jaw, her voice strained, hoarse; her throat parched by the too warm air.

"Patience, Kate," he whispers, grazing her upturned cheek with his nose and then his scruff covered chin. "All in good time," he tells her, soothing her with a gentle kiss.

Kate swears she can hear him chuckle, and part of her - an old, frustrated part - wants to get mad at him for keep her hanging like this. For teasing her even though she is plainly begging to be touched. But she can't find it in herself to snap at him anymore or even take charge this time. She's in his hands, quite literally, and there's nowhere else she'd rather be. So she just lets go.

* * *

Castle rewards her acquiescence immediately, moving his fingers lower, spreading her lips, the length of his middle finger still dragging over the nub of her clit, torturing a strangled cry from her chest. This change of location drags a loud groan of surprise from Castle too. She's so slick, glossy with her own juices, and Castle marvels at how soft and silky she feels. He moves lower, swirls his flattened fingers in a slow circle, smearing her already swollen, pulsating folds so that they are coated with the abundance of her body's own lubrication. Even in the warm bathwater, the evidence of her arousal is plain for him to feel, and he doubts he's ever had a more intimate or erotic experience with another human being.

"Fuck, Kate," he curses, immediately apologizing for his outburst, while Kate bites her lip and fights back a giggle.

"Swear box," she pants, squeezing her knees together briefly, trapping his hand between her legs. "Think we're gonna need one if you keep touching me like this."

She feels Castle dip his head behind her, rubbing his face against her hair, and when he speaks she can hear the amused devilment in his voice. "You mean when I touch you like this?" he whispers, his voice sounding louder than it actually is in the close, silent confines of her tiled bathroom.

Every groove, bump, pad and joint on each of the three fingers he's using to spread her wide and stroke her adds its own magical layer of friction. He skates back and forth between her legs, one strong arm around her ribs holding her prisoner against his chest, the other working her into an erotic frenzy that is quickly driving her out of her mind.

Her arms are out of the tub now, hands gripping the sides to stop her from moving too much or they will slosh the water right out onto the floor. She's loving what the cooler air is doing to ease her flushed skin; needs it like a cold drink of water as the temperature in the room soars. Her chest and neck are flushed red with arousal and contained exertion that mostly involves her racing heart and rapid, shallow breathing.

She's shivering and quivering, her entire body rigid in seconds as Castle works her higher and higher, stroking her in a way that confirms he knows her better than anyone, even in this – the first time he's ever touched her this way.

"Feel good?" he asks, nipping at her ear, a surprise sensation that stabs and throbs low in her abdomen.

"Oh, God, yes," pants Kate, letting go one side of the bathtub to force his fingers further between her legs, attempting to get him to slide into her.

But Castle resists, and she startles, surprised, the single grip she has on the opposite side of the tub, coupled with the buoyancy of the water, making her skid slightly against the bottom. She is forced to let go her pressure on his hand and grab for the side instead to rebalance herself.

Castle chuckles low in her ear. "Now, now, Kate," he warns her, sending sparks of electricity racing down her spine with his voice alone. "Who's in charge?"

She bites down on her lip again, fighting against her own nature, her urge to tell him exactly who is boss. Being the submissive one is not her usual role where she and Castle are concerned. But then Castle getting her off in her bathtub is a first too, so she has plenty of change to get used to, and so far everything she is feeling and experiencing goes above and beyond anything she ever dreamed it could be.

"Tell me?" he presses her, stilling his hand completely by way of encouragement, enticement or punishment, she's not quite sure which.

Kate growls in frustration. "_You are_," she admits, with a shake of her head.

"Good," he nods, flicking her ear with his tongue, his breath coolly fanning out across her sweat-dampened neck. "Right answer."

* * *

When he begins to touch her again, he can tell she's getting close. Despite the bathwater, she's even wetter, and he can feel the gentle pulse of her muscles every now and again. She arches up against his fingers this time, which are still spread three-abreast, laid long and flat between her swollen lips, coasting up and down over her hyper-stimulated nerves, but never actually entering her.

"God, Castle, inside. _Please?_" she begs, pushing her body down onto his hand.

"Shh," he soothes, drawing back to kiss her spine right between her shoulder blades where she's most sensitive. She flinches, fingers tightening on the tub sides wondering again how on earth he knows all this detailed stuff about her body already.

He begins to touch her in other places now too - lengthening her pleasure. He massages her shoulders, strokes his fingers down her arms, lightly scratching her skin with his short nails until she begs him to stop. He spreads the water droplets that coat her skin into a more even sheen that cools her down some more as he trails his fingertips up and over her arms and chest.

He kisses her neck again and again, arches her head back to reach her elongated, elegant throat – the focus of so many of his visual fantasies in the pedestrian, institutional dullness of the precinct, where she always shone out to him like some rare flower in the desert. He would find himself staring at her some days, often getting caught, his gaze focused on her long, pale neck wondering what if would feel like to kiss and lick the dips and curves, to suck on her flawless skin, and now that he knows, he grows harder just thinking about doing it, even as he revels in the fantastic reality of the act.

She quiets under his touch, the relentless, soothing, sometimes stirring caress of his familiar and yet unfamiliar hands - at least at this level of intimacy. He already knows that she likes his hands. He has caught her watching him too, and has felt her take risks to make a physical connection between them, to break the invisible boundary that always kept them at a safe distance from one another – brushing his knuckles accidently on purpose as she walks extra close to him, or stroking his fingertips in a deliberate act that he's supposed to think was casual and glancing when he hands her a cup of coffee, a file folder or even a pen. A few weeks ago, in a supposed act of sympathy, she even held his hand in front of his mother and daughter when Martha massacred the story of his childhood by turning it into a fantastical play.

* * *

"Let me do this for you, Kate, please?" he whispers at length. "Lie back against me. Come on, I've got you. Let me hold you," he encourages, tilting them both further back at a steeper angle by sliding down beneath the water just a fraction more.

It's an act of trust for Kate - totally relinquishing control to her partner - and a moment of wonder for Castle. Kate is aroused, that is an indisputable fact. But Castle is equally stimulated by the movement, the feel and the visual reality of having Kate's naked body floating up against his.

"Okay, now, spread your legs for me," he instructs, stroking his hand up along the inside of her thigh, dragging his fingertip lightly from apex to knee.

She raises her legs and then drops her knees wide, mirroring his position, so that she becomes even more open for him; giving him even better access to her.

Castle never pictured her as this needy or wanton or openly desperate in any fantasy he played around with in his head. But it's because this is Kate, he knows, that she appears more eager and all the more striking for it simply being her – his partner of four years, now begging him to push his fingers inside her to increase her pleasure and speed her onto the orgasm she's so desperately chasing.

They don't do this - at least they didn't until today - yet now they do, and he's finding that the mental adjustment is massive.

He has this one special, almost emotionally driven fantasy of his own that he's been holding onto the last few years: that the first time they ever make love _he_ will make her come with his body. He doesn't mind making her climax in the bathtub, but he wants the first time he pushes inside her for their two bodies to actually be joined together.

Rather than break the moment by explaining this in any detail, he just takes charge again and tells her what's going to happen.

When she breathlessly asks, "What are you doing? Why are you holding back?" and turns her head to look at him in near delirium, he silences her with the thick pulse of his tongue, pushing it between her bruised lips - thickly, hotly - distracting her and stoking her desire even more.

Then he gets to work with his fingers, taking control of her body; working her up until she gets ever closer to shattering on the shores of oblivion.

He caresses every nerve ending he knows to exist without even entering her at all. His fingers smooth and stroke between her silky folds. They rub against and tease her clit as he drags his hand rhythmically back and forth between her thighs. He steals her breath away with demanding kisses, and feels his own hardness grown rocklike between their bodies the more tightly wound Kate becomes.

Just before she shatters against his palm, the speed of his strokes rapid and relentless, water sloshes out of the tub for the first time, splashing onto the tiled floor. Castle tries to ignore it, slowing their movement back and forth against the bottom of the tub by bracing his feet at the far end, while still maintaining the pace that's driving Kate to the brink.

"Oh, shit. Castle, I'm coming," she mewls through gritted teeth, fingers griping so fiercely to the side of the bathtub that her knuckles are white. And Castle thinks this might be the most perfect sound he's ever heard her make.

In the next second he feels her begin to flutter against his hand, and he slows slightly, easing his pace to work her through her orgasm, every stroke teasing more and more perfect, aching, ripples of pleasure from her body, as she relinquishes complete control of her sexual experience to his innate talent, her eyes closed and her brow furrowed in ecstatic concentration.

At one point he has to reach between their bodies to touch himself, stroking his own length a few times as he coasts in the warm water with her naked body pressed against his, enjoying the dying embers of her orgasm with her. But then he steels his mind to resist the urge he has to chase the same feeling of blissful release Kate has just experienced and focus back on his partner for the time being instead.

* * *

Kate slowly opens her eyes, her head resting back against his right shoulder while Castle continues to stroke her lazily, watching her shiver and jerk against his fingers, her cheeks and lips spread into a devastated smile, until sensitivity takes over and she comes back to earth, exhausted, spent, sagging against him.

He palms her breast, circling her perfect areola with his index finger, while she grins up at him looking like she thinks she's so clever or maybe that he's the clever one, he's not quite sure, since her face is currently upside down to him.

"You okay? Just take it easy for a second," he tells her, smoothing one hand down her raised thigh. "You are so sexy, you know that," he whispers in her ear, making her giggle, sending shock waves wafting out across the surface of the tub once more.

"What? I mean it. You drive me _insane_, Kate," he insists on telling her, even if she's going to laugh at him.

"You just obliterated me," she says, grinning at him upside down. "But you were mean."

Castle barks out a laugh of surprise. "I was _mean?_"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't you…you know, enter me?" she asks, suddenly finding herself scrabbling around for words.

Castle sighs, and then he shifts slightly beneath her, and Kate moves to help him, sitting a little higher up so that less of her weigh is pressed back against him.

"I'll tell you why a little later," he promises, kissing her sweetly on the side of her temple, wrapping both his arms around her body once more.

"What?" she asks, twisting round to look at him. "No, _now_," she insists, with a curious little frown.

"You're so cute when you're—"

"Angry. Yes, I know. You've said that before," she interrupts, cutting him off.

"Actually, _Detective_, I was going to say _bossy_. You're so cute when you're bossy," he informs her, tapping her lightly on the end of her nose.

"Whatever, Castle. Stop avoiding the question," she grins, when he chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that ripples through his frame and vibrates into her own body.

"Okay, if you insist."

"I do," she says, her tone still amused, as she takes his hand and sandwiches it between her own, comparing the size and length of their fingers with a child-like fascination.

"I—I always had this…this _'fantasy'_ I suppose you'd call it," he begins, a little awkward at first.

Kate stops moving, and still holding his hand, urges him to continue. "Go on," she tells him, suddenly acutely aware that he's not joking around anymore.

Castle glances down at her and she's staring straight ahead, biting her lip while she listens to him.

"Well, you know I've been in love with you for a long time, and I was attracted to you long before that. So, anyway, I always harbored this…this hope, I suppose, that the first time I made love to you…"

"Stop," whispers Kate, with some urgency, reaching back to press her damp fingers over his mouth.

"What? Is it the phone?" asks Castle in a moment of guilty, blind panic, his hopes crashing and his heart sinking.

"No. No, just…I think I know what you're going to say. And you don't have to. I'd really like that too," she assures him, caressing his jaw, skating her thumb over his lower lip, her eyes locked with his in a moment of the purest honesty.

"You would?" he asks, his voice rising, coated with utter relief.

"Yes, I really would."

"Then how about if we actually bathe proper while we're in here, before we turn into a couple of prunes, and then take this somewhere a little less…splashy," he grins, cupping the back of Kate's neck and drawing her into a deep, lingering, aching kiss that has her squirming all over again.

If Kate could talk right now, she'd say that she couldn't agree more. As it is, she's rather busy, so she nods her head instead and sighs her agreement into Castle's mouth.

_TBC..._

* * *

_A/N: Hope those that are lucky enough to get to watch the show live tonight enjoy the new episode. Happy Castle Monday. Love to hear your thoughts. _


	11. Chapter 11 - Flying

_A/N: Okay, so here's a puzzle: a lot of people were hoping this story would head down the M route, judging by comments in reviews and a few PM's, and then when it actually did, the reviews fell off. Is that because: a) You don't actually like M? b) You didn't enjoy how the last chapter turned out? or c) Y'all are too shy to admit you actually read it? I'm just curious, not complaining. :)_

_If you didn't like it or don't like M, I'm afraid there's one more chapter like that before we begin to wrap this baby up. Hope you enjoy..._

* * *

**_Chapter 11 – Flying_**

Kate reaches for the new bar of soap she laid out earlier. It's called Spiced Fig, which amuses Castle for some reason.

"Mmm, I like it. Even your soap is spicy," he teases, skimming her shoulder with his nails.

He flinches and then laughs in surprise when Kate turns around and flicks water in his face.

"Are you _really_ wasting time mocking my soap, Castle? _Hmm?_ When the phone could ring at any second and we'd have to leave things…hanging…_hard _as that sounds," she adds, curling forwards over her knees as she giggles quietly at her own joke.

Castle steals the soap from her, dips it into the water and begins to rub it slowly between his palms to work up a good lather. "Mean, Beckett," he grouses at her phone joke, since she already knows how on edge he is about her getting an untimely callout.

Kate turns her head to the side, her cheek pillowed on her hands. "Oh, now it's _Beckett_, is it?" she says with amusement.

"Mmm," murmurs Castle, a little distractedly, since he's currently focusing on the elegant arch of her back stretching out in front of him, the splay of her ribcage and the moguls of each individual vertebrae leading up towards that dip he wants to kiss at the nape of her neck. "Let's just stop thinking about the phone for a second. Because _we_…have unfinished business."

* * *

While he soaps her back, he insists he's going to wash her hair for her too. His large hands diligently smooth scented bubbles all over her flushed skin, and it's as sensual an experience as Kate could ever have hoped it would be – being washed by her partner. He remains behind her, hands sliding around beneath her arms while he whispers in her ear for her to close her eyes and "Just feel, Kate," as he runs his hands over her breasts, both at the same time, fondling their soft but firm texture, palms circling easily with the extra layer of lubrication supplied by the soap.

Kate groans when he squeezes her nipples in the pincer-like gap between his thumbs and index fingers, and Castle presses a kiss to the nape of her neck to soothe her.

"God, you devastate me," he whispers, grazing the very top ridge of her spine with the rough tip of his chin, before licking it and then blowing on the sensitive patch to confuse her senses all over again.

"_Me?_" Kate chokes out, drawing in a stuttering breath as he continues to touch her to distracting effect. "You're the one…oh, God, _Rick_," she exclaims, gripping the side of the tub again. "You're the one who just made me…ah, _fuck!_ How the hell do you _do_ that?" she cries out, half-laughing when he finds another surprisingly sensitive spot near the base of her back and massages it with just the right amount of pressure to make her moan aloud.

"I've been watching you, remember? You thought it was all just creepy staring on my part," he crows, fingers continuing to apply variable, intermittent pressure to precise points either side of her spine that she wasn't even aware were tense. "But I was gathering intel, Detective, getting to know my subject—"

"Your _subject?_" snorts Kate with considerable surprise and amusement.

"Okay, maybe I'm getting a little too…"

"_Deep throat_ about it?" suggests Kate, with an amused chuckle.

Her choice of words has Castle coughing and fighting for breath.

"Deep throat? Beckett, _really?_" he squeaks in amazement.

"Castle, you just got me _off_ in my bathtub. We have to be able to talk about this stuff. Anyway," she says, taking the bar of soap from him and lathering up to continue washing herself, "since when were you so coy about sex talk?"

"Coy? I'm not _coy_," he scoffs dismissively, reaching for her bottle of shampoo.

But she has just a little bit of a point – this is Kate he's touching, fondling, arousing and kissing and all the other magical magnificence in between. It's taking him some mental agility to get his head around the fact of her giving herself to him like this without breaking his fingers or putting a bullet in him.

* * *

For a man, Castle is surprisingly gentle and skilled with first the shampoo, which he of course uses too much of, leaving her with a mountain of suds on top of her head, slowly dripping down her ears, before sliding down onto her shoulders.

But he manages to rinse it off without getting any in her eyes and then goes on to coat her hair from root to tip in creamy conditioner. He instructs her to lean her head back, bracing her with his knees, while he massages her scalp so expertly that she thinks she might be in danger of coming all over again just from this skillful manipulation alone. His fingers knead her scalp from back to front and ear to ear far better than in any Manhattan salon she's ever been to, and tingles race up and down her spine the slower and more carefully he works on her.

It's still a little strange, still a little awkward, when any lengthy silence falls over them. But Castle being Castle, he mostly chats to her quietly while he washes her hair, and she loves him for it – for keeping up a crazy, funny running commentary to keep them both amused and relaxed. He injects stories about a stroppy, bossy, redheaded Alexis. Aged five, he tells her, she went through a phase of making him perform elaborate styles on her hair for parties or even first thing in the morning before school – like French braids - with his big hands.

"She made me work _ribbons_ into her braids. Have you any idea how tricky that is to get right?" he asks Kate. "Then she complains 'Daddy you have such thick fingers and thumbs'," he says, mimicking Alexis' childish, high-pitched voice.

Kate clears her throat before she speaks, dropping her hand beneath the water to touch his knee. "Can I just say that I _love_ your thick fingers and thumbs?" she blurts in confession, laughing when she hears herself, how dirty and inappropriate that sounds given he was telling her something his five-year-old child once said.

Castle chuckles when she dips her head, covering her face in her damp hands. "My God, that came out all wrong. I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be," he grins, skimming down her arm with his fingertips. "I love your breasts, your…oh God, so much of you, Kate, it's not even fair to name everything or single out specific features."

"Thank you," says Kate, sincerely, catching his hand while it rests on her shoulder and turning her head to look at him.

"For what?" asks Castle, stilling, his fingers still trapped under hers, a puzzled little frown creasing his brow.

"For making this so easy. For just being you," she shrugs.

He leans down and kisses her fingertips. "No need to thank me, Kate. Why don't you just…_show me_," he adds, winking at her and then offering her his hand to help her up.

* * *

The water has started to cool and so they stand to shower off the soap and conditioner, finishing their ablutions separately before getting out.

They both get wrapped up in a single large bath sheet at first, giggling and kissing and groping one another, until Kate starts to shiver and Castle insists she dries off properly.

He wraps her in a fresh towel all by herself, tweaks the end of her nose and then gives her a little space to do her own thing, while he finishes drying himself off. He scrubs at his hair with the towel, skin pink and glowing from the hot shower, and then he winces as he asks her for a comb, hoping she won't tease him for being just a little vain.

"Ah, that perfect mane of Castle hair. And I thought it just magically styled itself," teases Kate, carding her fingers through the damp strands of his hair and teasing it into an exaggerated peak at the front that makes him look kind of Elvis-like, taking her back to that ridiculous trip he and the boys made down to Atlantic City. She's glad she has no real idea what went on there before and after she arrived.

Castle appraises her handiwork in the mirror and slowly shakes his head, before attempting to tame it back down.

"Hey," says Kate, giving him a nudge, "there's a comb in that middle drawer," she tells him, pointing to the far end of the vanity.

Once they're both dried off, Kate quickly blows the excess moisture out of her own hair with the hairdryer, while Castle wanders off into her bedroom to have another snoop about. He's wearing a fresh towel, slung low on his hips, and Kate bites her lip just thinking about what's going on underneath there. Though briefly sated by the fun they had in the bath, just being near Castle, being able to look at his naked body, touch his warm, soft skin, and kiss him whenever she feels like it is keeping her in a state of restless excitement.

* * *

When Kate comes out into the bedroom wearing a short, silky robe a few minutes later, the tie fixed sloppily in a bow by one hip, the front gaping slightly more than normal, she finds Castle studying a framed photograph of her and her dad which was taken during her period of recuperation up at the cabin.

He stands up guilty when her hears her come up behind him, drawing back a little from his close examination of the picture. She runs her hands up his bare back and out across his shoulders, finally settling them on his upper arms, and then she leans in to press a kiss against his spine, before resting her cheek on the back of one arm. She lets out a long, slow breath when she sees exactly which picture he's looking at.

"You look so…" Castle hesitates before he makes any further comment on the photograph, weighing his words carefully.

"It's okay," whispers Kate, rubbing her cheek against his arm. "You can say it. I look terrible."

"No," he says," putting the frame back down and turning round to face her. He rests his hands on her shoulders. "You look fragile is all I was going to say. Seeing that makes me want to protect you, to look after you, when I know you…you would never want me feeling that way about you. You're so independent, Kate. And while I love that about you – how strong you are – sometimes I just wish—"

He pauses, running his fingers over the silky collar of her robe, before he looks at her again.

"What? Go on. It's okay, Castle. You can say it. What do you wish?"

"That you'd let me help you more, confide in me. That you didn't feel the need to do everything by yourself all the time."

Kate drops her head and looks at the floor. When she raises it again, she's smiling.

"_Well_, there is this one thing I really don't want to do by myself," she says, gently tugging on the front of his towel and giving him a playful, saucy look. "Wanna help me?" she asks, backing away from him, beckoning for him to follow her with her finger crooked, her lip mischievously drawn between her teeth.

"Sure," he grins wickedly, before telling her in a more serious tone. "But don't think you're off the hook because you distracted me with sex, Kate. We _will_ be returning to this discussion at a later date," he warns her.

"_Sex?_ You thought I meant _sex?_" she jokes, only with a completely straight, even slightly shocked face.

"Why? What did you…?" mumbles Castle, standing stock still in the middle of her bedroom, the slight…disruption arising beneath his towel betraying him more than he'd like.

"I have uh…this…this light bulb in the kitchen that needs replaced and…well, it's a little beyond my reach…" she grins, trailing off when Castle finally spots the twinkle in her eye and realizes that she's joking.

"You little vixen," he grins, making the couple of long strides it takes to reach her. "Just for that you…you..."

"I what?" pushes Kate, arms crossed over her chest, one hip kicked out to the side casually, a 'gotcha' expression on her face as she watches Castle flounder for words for once.

"Just shut up and come here," he tells her, tugging on the satin sash on her robe to bring her crashing into him. "No more games, Kate. We're all done with games," he whispers, gently cupping her cheeks and kissing her softly on the mouth.

He presses his forehead against hers', peering into her eyes, so close that she's out of focus.

"Not _all _games, I hope?" she says, watching as Castle tugs her closer by the collar of her robe, until their hips are pushed hard up against each other.

He links his arms low on her waist behind her back, holding her to him.

"Just…no more misunderstandings, okay? I don't want us to go through another night like last night. I want to be _in_ your life because I'm good for you, Kate. Do you understand? I—I don't want you to ever have to worry about me because I'm off on some stupid, self-indulgent bender or…or save me or protect me from anything."

Kate runs her hands up and down Castle's sides. "We work, Rick…_together_. Somehow we work, and in the beginning I didn't like it and I couldn't have explained why for the life of me that, out of everyone I've ever met, _you_ were the one person who made me feel safe and cared for, understood and…yes, loved, I guess. Even from pretty early on."

"But that wasn't a good thing, was it?" says Castle, understanding that for her somehow it wasn't, not then.

"At first…no, it wasn't. I didn't _want_ to like you, even though I loved your books. When I met you I was so…career-focused and serious. I was on this mission to bring my mom's killers to justice because I thought that's what I needed to do to survive, and you just seemed so…so _frivolous_…the life you led. Or at least the life I _thought_ you led. That's how it looked to me from the outside anyway. You know what they say about not meeting your heroes…" she shrugs.

"So what changed your mind?"

"You did. Gradually. And there was Alexis of course. You were such a great dad, Castle, so dedicated to your little girl. That showed me a whole other side to you, a depth I had no idea was there. Anyway, my point is that I was _wrong_ about you and I took far too long to trust you when all the evidence I needed was right there in front of me everyday you showed up…because of me."

"So then we're agreed? We can trust each other with more than just our lives from now on?" he asks, resting his hands on Kate's shoulders, realizing how ridiculous his statement would sound to anyone but them.

"You trust me with your heart? Is that what you're saying?"

Castle nods, tucking one quick drying curl behind her ear and then kissing the top of her head.

"I trust you with my heart, yes, since we've…cleared the air, so to speak. And I always trusted you with my daughter, Kate. I know you'd never intentionally hurt either of us. My mother? Meh," he shrugs, a wicked grin suddenly transforming his face into something fun and joyful, "you can do what you like with her."

Kate laughs, breaking up the tension in the bedroom.

"Your mom played a not insignificant role in getting us to this point, I'll have you know. Don't underestimate her. She's a smart woman. She didn't let me off the hook easily, I can tell you."

"Oh God," groans Castle, burying his head in Kate's neck. "What did she say?" he asks, his voice muffled by her hair and skin.

"It doesn't matter now," she tells him, stroking the back of his head, her heart stirring at the silky brush of his hair beneath her fingertips.

"No secrets, Kate."

"Okay, she just told me not to hurt you. That I should let you down gently," Kate confesses quietly, dipping her head.

Castle strokes her cheek with his thumb.

"Don't look at me like that," she tells him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist.

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me. She was just protecting you. And I'm not proud of the way I handled any of this. Don't think for a second that I am. I know I have a lot of making up to do…Alexis and Martha included."

"Making up," repeats Castle, stroking his finger over Kate's lips, his eyes locked with hers. "Sounds like it could be fun, Beckett. What do you say? Should we have a go at _making up_? See if we're as good at that as we are at solving crimes together?"

Kate smiles, a genuine, excited, sexy, flirtatious smile.

"You always know just the right thing to say, don't you?" she says, running her fingers along his jaw and leaning up to press her lips against his, so softly that he shivers and she notices his nipples tightening.

"I try my best."

"Professional pride, huh?"

"You know me so well."

"I'd like to know you even better," she whispers, kissing him softly at the side of his mouth and then brushing her nose against his cheek. "Would that be okay?"

Castle's eyes drift closed with the caress of Kate's eyelashes against his skin. "I'm sure it could be arranged," he breathes, fingers flexing against her silk-covered hips.

"No more games, remember?" she tells him, touching his eyebrow with a quiet, meaningful reverence.

"I'm not playing games, Kate. What you see is what you get."

"Well, I like what I've seen so far. How about we take this to bed and you show me some more?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Castle leads Kate over to the side of the bed by the hand and then he kisses her again, with more fervor this time, stirring the passion that's been simmering between them both since they got into the bathtub together.

He breathes slowly, thumbs caressing her neck, hands resting lightly on her shoulders, as they take their time to explore one another more deeply, lips barely brushing and then sucking fiercely, tongues stroking hungrily; a ceaseless outpouring of the desire that they're finally acknowledging exists between them.

Castle's right hand slips from her neck and he slides one side of her silk robe off her shoulder exposing the smooth, tan orb of skin that's been hiding underneath. He breaks away from her mouth to kiss his way down along the curve of her neck all the way to her upper arm and then he repeats the same worship on the other side. Her robe is only held together by the loose tie at her waist now as it drapes down her back, hanging from each elbow.

"May I?" he asks, eyeing up the sloppy bow she's used to draw the two sides of her robe together.

He's holding onto one of the ends waiting for her permission to pull on it and have the whole thing fall wide-open to expose her glorious body to him again.

"You may," permits Kate, when his eyes rise from her midsection to lock with hers.

He gives the silky tie one sharp tug and the bow disintegrates before his eyes. When he untangles the remainder of the knot the robe parts in the middle, showcasing Kate's flat stomach, her firm, pert breasts, her silky curls and the long length of her legs.

"Just stunning," says Castle, his tone of awe not dimmed in any way from the first time he gazed at her naked body.

"Now my turn," says Kate, running her hand up Castle's arm, where he's reached out to place his hand on her waist beneath her robe.

She watches his throat bob a little nervously as he swallows, head dipped to watch her wrap her fingers around the tuck he's made in the towel he's wearing around his waist.

He glances up to look at her face and the expression of unabashed arousal he finds there makes him harden even more beneath the meager covering he has on. His state of excitement couldn't be more obvious if he tried, since the towel is now tented in front and threatening to part of its own volition.

Kate seems unfazed, if anything the way she's licking her lips proves she's getting more eager by the second. She gently pulls on the terrycloth, untwisting the turn he's made in the fabric. "Ready?" she asks, giving him a beautiful smile that is just slightly tinged with shyness he isn't expecting to see.

Before he can even answer her, she takes the towel away, tossing it onto the bottom of the bed behind her. She stares at him with hungry, possessive eyes, her cheeks, chest and neck all flushed pink at the sight before her.

"That fantasy you've been holding onto?" she says, reaching out to wrap her fingers around him, before proceeding to stroke Castle's length with her hand.

He swallows hard and reaches out to hold onto the nightstand for balance. "Yes?" he growls, covering Kate's hand with his own and joining her in the lazy, stroking motion she's performing on him.

"I want to make it a reality, Castle. _Now_," she says, her tone insistent, verging on desperate.

* * *

She releases him and shrugs the remainder of her robe off so that it falls soundlessly to the floor, leaving her completely naked, just like Castle. Then she sits down on the bed and immediately eases back to make room for him. She beckons him towards her, her thighs falling open in definite invitation for him to settle in between them.

When his naked body finally layers itself on top of hers, she thinks her heart might stop. She's breathless and they haven't done anything yet. His skin is warm and so smooth as he carefully moves on top of her. Her breathing gets faster, her heartbeat erratic, and by now her body is so aroused again that it's almost embarrassing.

Castle kisses her hungrily – her mouth, her cheeks, her neck. He lifts up a little so that he can get a better angle on her chest, slowly dragging the flat of his tongue down between her breasts until she's thrashing her head from side to side, gripping the covers in her hands and begging him to stop torturing her.

"Kate?" he finally whispers, cupping her cheek to get her attention and make her open her feverish eyes.

"Mmm?" she murmurs listlessly, stretching like a cat on the bed, her back arched and breasts pushed up high so that all Castle can do is stare.

He almost loses his train of thought. "Uh…do you have anything? Protection?" he clarifies, and her eyes fly open. "I'm sorry, I didn't exactly come…prepared," he admits, biting the inside of his cheek, feeling like an inexperienced teenage boy at his high school prom. "Last night…I wasn't exactly—"

"Nightstand drawer. My side," she tells him, falling back onto the mattress when he gets up to go look where she instructed.

She lies there thinking this is one other subject they need to discuss at some point – very soon – though not right now, since it might break the mood. She hears him slide open the drawer, find the box and then open it to withdraw one foil-wrapped condom.

A second later and he's back in front of her, crawling up over her body with a slightly embarrassed grin on his face. She looks down, sees his erection settling between her legs, rising high and proud towards Castle's stomach. He is spectacular in many ways, this man she's been lucky enough to find and fall in love with, and his physicality is just one of the many ways in which she's finding he surpasses her expectations.

He places the wrapped condom down on the bed off to one side and resumes his worship of her breasts, circling each nipple with his tongue, before sucking the peaked flesh into the hot, demanding cave of his mouth. Kate cries out when he draws particularly deeply on her left nipple, the suction powerful to the point of pleasurable discomfort for a brief second before he blows on the puckered flesh to soothe her.

"Oh God," she moans, clawing at his back, arching her hips up towards him when arrows of pain and excitement shoot straight from her breasts to her core every time he sucks a little harder.

"Please touch me," she begs, palming the back of his head.

* * *

Castle hums against her right breast and then releases it with a wet pop when he breaks suction. Kate stiffens when she feels his fingers creeping up the inside of her right thigh. He strokes higher and higher and she moves her legs even wider apart, so desperate for him to touch her that she makes this open invitation as obvious as she can.

"I love how into this…how _eager_ you are, Kate," he whispers, moving his attention to her other breast just as he reaches the top of her thigh and lingers at the apex. "The golden zone," he tells her, flicking at her nipple. He strokes his thumb up into the sensitive dip of her groin, hovering there for a second, caressing the thin, taut layer of skin, before he uses two thick fingers to part her glossy folds. "God, you feel amazing," he exclaims, sucking down hard on her breast again.

Kate shudders bodily, squirming against his hand, seeking out more friction. "I love the way you touch me…like you've been doing it forever," she tells him, cupping the back of his head again and curling forwards to kiss his damp forehead.

She sinks back down onto the bed, her arms thrown over her head in a pose of pure submissiveness.

Castle runs one hand down over her long leg, reaching behind him until he can grab her ankle, and then he lifts her leg up and plants her foot flat on the mattress. This position leaves her even more open than before, and he uses that access to lean down between her legs, flick out his tongue and lap at her juice-covered folds.

Kate is going crazy, driven nearly out of her mind with desire. She fights the urge to squeeze her thighs together to make him stop as he quickly winds her higher, working her with practiced ease. She can feel her muscles fluttering already, an early spasm, and she desperately fights to tamp down her own excitement, to kill the provocative thoughts racing through her brain - that they're really doing this for the first time after all the months and months of desperate fearful longing that it would never happen. So she fights to blank her brain for a second, to regain a little control, because more than anything she wants to feel him inside her now. She wants them to be joined, for it to mean something, to finally make that special, most intimate connection that will be the last piece of the jigsaw for her.

When she can't take it anymore, she touches his shoulder, tightening her fingers around it to get his attention.

"Castle, please," she hisses, and he eventually stops laving her into a mess of sensitivity long enough to look up into her desperate face. "I want you inside me," she says simply, as honestly as she can. "Please? Let's make that fantasy come true."

Castle wipes his damp mouth on the back of his hand and then he nods. "I'd like that too."

* * *

Kate lies down again to wait for him, hears the sound of the condom packaging being ripped open, and then the papery whisper of Castle sheathing himself in the fine layer of protection. She's on pins and needles waiting for the moment of truth – when their bodies will finally be joined together after three years of badly concealed, and often poorly denied, foreplay.

She feels his hand smooth it's way up the outside of her left thigh and she casts her eyes down to watch Castle graze her clit with his tip, shooting sparks up her spine and making her muscles contract. She holds her breath, her entire body tingling and as alive as she's ever felt in her life while he takes himself in hand and prepares to enter her for the first time. He circles around a few times, coating the head in her body's natural juices and then he nudges at her entrance once or twice before slowing feeding his rock hard length into her, inch by inch. It seems to take forever for him to slide all the way inside her body, tip to root, until their pelvises kiss and they are entirely joined to one another.

Kate lets out a shaky breath and she feels Castle twitch deep inside her. She answers him with a quick squeeze and release of her internal muscles, and his eyes fly up to her face once he tears his fascinated gaze away from where his body disappears inside hers.

"Okay?" he asks her, solicitously, barely moving a muscle.

"Better than," nods Kate, smiling and reaching out to take his hand. "Move with me?" she asks, lying back on the bed and letting a sigh slip from her lips as he indulges her request, withdrawing until he almost slips all the way out, and then driving his hips forward again to push all the way back in.

He does this a few times – slow and steady – until Kate gets used to the girth and length of his body's intrusion into hers, and he feels her getting even wetter, her muscles relaxing around him, body stretching as she eagerly begins to move with him, setting them up with a regular rhythm.

"I dreamt about this," she confesses, letting the words fall out breathily from between her damp lips.

"Me fucking you?" asks Castle, enjoying the flush that flares on her cheeks and the dark flash that glints in her eyes when he talks dirty to her. He tucks this little gem away for future use.

"Yes," she admits, listlessly, reaching behind him to cup his right buttock and pull him more deeply into her.

The rounded muscles of his ass flex beneath her hand every time he moves his hips, and they're even more toned and firm than she always suspected they would be. Rock hard is the expression she wants to go with, thought this applies to more than one piece of his anatomy right now.

"Where was that?" he asks, coaxing the information from her, his hands on her hips, fingertips pressed into the small of her back, thumbs in the dips where her hipbones meet her flat stomach, as he braces her body to receive his more forcefully.

"LA," she stammers out, her body shuddering around his as he drives into her again. "We were in LA."

"For real or…" asks Castle, stalling in his smooth rhythm because he suddenly realizes that he actually want to know the answer.

"Yeah, for real. That night…in the hotel…and then again after we came home. Lots of times after that," she tells him, groaning in delight when he pushes particularly deep, catching her off-guard.

He withdraws again, circles her entrance with his tip, teasingly, and then pushes back in, moaning aloud with her at the thought that she wanted him this whole time; that he didn't create or imagine or overestimate their connection.

Their bodies are on fire, both of them hot and bothered, sweat beginning to slick the skin of their stomachs as Castle slides further up the bed, takes hold of both Kate's hands and links them with his own, raising them high above her head.

"I wanted you so badly that night," he confesses, thrusting into her just that little bit faster, until she catches up and begins arching her hips up into him at the same pace, abdominals and thighs flexing to meet every buck of his hips.

"Me too," she whispers, flicking her tongue out to wet her dry lips.

"Seriously?" asks Castle, clenching her fingers, spreading them wide between his own.

"I came back out to find you," she confesses, eyes burning the truth into him. "But you'd already gone to bed."

"God, no, don't say that," growls Castle, driving into her even harder in an attempt to eradicate the memory of all that wasted time and pointless miscommunication. He buries his face in her damp neck.

"Wouldn't have been the same," Kate assures him, shaking her head. "We're both free now," she whispers, carding her fingers through his hair, as they continue to slide up and down on her bed. "No regrets," she says, tugging on his chin, before smothering his lips with her own.

* * *

Castle is shaking all over by now, his muscles tensed, making love to Kate Beckett for the first time an overwhelming, cathartic experience that comes closer to 'fucking' for both of them than it does to loving; they're both so aroused, excited, desperate with anticipation and almost four years worth of horny appreciation for one another's bodies.

Kate lifts her legs higher, wrapping them around his waist to allow him to drive even deeper into her at a sharper angle, and this one simple act of urgent desire does it for Castle.

"Kate, not gonna last much longer," he tells her in a slightly panicked whisper.

"Thank god, me too," she tells him, hurriedly finding his mouth again and pushing her tongue inside to stroke against his.

They both speed up, finding a desperate, almost manic rhythm that carries them off towards a spectacular crescendo.

Flesh slaps wetly against flesh and they grunt. The bedframe creaks, and a lamp eventually topples over on the nightstand, but they ignore all distraction, too wrapped up in one another to even notice if her apartment was burning down around them right now.

"I love you," Castle whispers, letting go of her hips to raise his hands to her face and run his fingers through her hair, and then, drowning in his deep blue eyes and the truth of his words, Kate finally comes.

She stalls in her movement, breaking the rhythm they've perfected, her body growing rigid, stuttering against his, and she panics slightly, fearing she's broken the spell, until she sees Castle's face tense up, his expression of absolute concentration morphing into something closer to pain, if pain also means ecstasy, and then she feels him shatter with her.

His arms surround her suddenly, tightly, his open mouth pressed hard against her neck as their bodies shudder and quake with the power of their release coursing from him into her and back again.

"Oh…God," exclaims Castle, thrusting himself into her again; a slow, deep roll of his hips that strokes something deep inside of her and has her keening into his shoulder to muffle her cry, her teeth bared on a ridge of muscle.

They coast like this for many seconds, bodies slowly sliding together and then parting slightly, dragging out this first shared experience of carnal pleasure for one another, as wave after wave of ecstasy ripples through them. And they gasp for breath, skin damp and slick with perspiration, fingers clutching at each other, bruised lips coming back for more, sloppy desperate kisses that match the rolling of their hips, clinging on, chasing the last dying embers of their orgasm as if they'll drown without it.

* * *

Finally the flames subside, dying back to a pleasant hum that puts a smile back on both their faces – goofy grins they hide from one another - amongst the rumpled sheets in Castle's case, and in her partner's sweat slicked neck in Kate's.

They lie still eventually, coming down from the natural world's best high, until Kate feels Castle begin soften inside her, their skin drying in the warm bedroom air, bodies sticky and damp.

"Hey," she whispers, stroking her hand down his back, kissing his shoulder. "Castle," she says a little louder, moving her legs beneath him to stir his sex-sleepy body.

"Mmm, I'm here," he murmurs, needlessly adding, "Not sleeping, promise," heightening Kate's suspicion that he just might have drifted off momentarily.

"Don't get cold," Kate warns him, when she herself shivers, goose bumps racing out to texture her skin.

"Moving," mumbles Castle, bracing with his arms to lift his body off of hers.

Kate smiles and moans throatily, a lazy sound of pure pleasure, when she feels him slip out of her.

"Sorry if I was squashing you," Castle apologizes.

But Kate slings her arms around his neck and pulls him back down on top of her, smothering his yelp of surprise with a crushing kiss when he topples.

"Hey," he laughs, quieting her fierce kisses with gentle brushes of his own lips, stroking her cheek. "I like you like this."

"Needy?" she asks, bumping noses with him, while they smile and stare into one another's eyes.

"Clingy," grins Castle, flinching when she flicks at his ear. "What? You don't like clingy, but you're okay with needy?"

"My brain is messed up," she moans, shaking her head. "Pay no attention to anything I tell you right now. Wipe it from your mind."

"What if I told you that I think we're amazing in bed? Would you pay attention to _me_ if I said that?" he asks, kissing her cheek and then returning to peck at her lips, over and over again - tiny, ticklish, feather light kisses - until she starts to giggle and squirm and finally pushes his face away.

"You're delirious," she tells him, poking him in the ribs. "We both are. Our brains have been wrecked by sex."

Castle grins down at her, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Wrecked?" he repeats, cocking one eyebrow at her. "You sound drunk, little lady."

"Little lady?" laughs Kate, her shoulders shaking.

"Kate, I really have to go to the bathroom," Castle explains, reaching behind his head to prize her arms from around his neck again. "Promise I'll come right back. But I have to deal with this," he says, looking down between their bodies, "before we make a mess."

He kisses her lightly on the lips one last time, before backing off the bed, laughing in surprise when Kate groans in displeasure at him leaving her alone.

* * *

As soon as he's gone, she flops back down onto the mattress, stretching languidly to ease the kinks out of her tired muscles from their recent exertion and from lying still for too long afterwards.

She's vaguely aware of the toilet flushing and then the sound of water running in the sink, since Castle has left the bathroom door ajar. But everything else just fades away into nothingness as she finally drifts off to sleep with a sated smile still on her face.

_TBC..._

* * *

_Thoughts?_


	12. Chapter 12 - Coming Back Down To Earth

_A/N: Well, I must begin with a big thank you. People really stepped up to answer my little pop quiz on the last two chapters. Much appreciated. I heard from twice the number of readers & I learned more about your reactions to the M-rated content of stories than my simple a/b/c questions alluded to. _

_Generally it seems the response to those parts of this story, or any story that goes down that route, is a very personal, individual one, and as a result some people are not comfortable sharing that personal experience or find it hard to find the right words to express their views. I guess all I'd add is that writing these sections of stories is equally difficult and you're really putting yourself out there when you do. _

_Anyway, thank you for sharing. Time to move on... _

* * *

**_Chapter 12 – Coming Back Down To Earth_**

When Castle comes back out of the bathroom, he slows to a standstill just inside the doorway to Kate's bedroom, the words he was about to say quickly dying on his lips. His partner is laid out on the bed exactly where he left her, only now her eyes are closed and he can tell from the regular, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest and the lack of tension in her hands that she has fallen asleep.

He leans on the doorframe for a second or two just watching her. He's pretty sure that she'd hate it if she caught him looking at her like this. But the sight of her is so compelling, his deep surprise at what they've just done still so fresh and startling, that he's unable to stop himself.

Being with her through these perfect moments of shared intimacy they've just created and enjoyed together; the mutual honesty, all the touching, the pleasuring, vulnerability and openness - it is all so new. He can't quite get over it - seeing her completely unmasked: no pretense, no front, nothing left between either of them after the last twelve or so hours of yelling and then sharing, confessions and finally making things right.

It thrills him - every tiny, magnificent second - and then it terrifies him to the core to think of losing her, now that he finally understands how truly wonderful getting this close to her can be.

So he watches her with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes, one hand pressed over his mouth, unable to trust himself not to make some involuntary noise that might wake her up. He feels so tenderly towards her in this moment. She's tough and she's fierce when she needs to be, he knows that, is still slightly in awe of her strength and her selflessness. But she is also a woman and a beloved daughter; a woman who had her mother ripped away from her in the worst possible way and at far too tender an age. And these are the things that he sees and feels now as he looks at Katherine Beckett, private citizen, instead of Kate Beckett, NYPD Homicide Detective.

They've moved on to a new phase in their relationship – still friends, hopefully still able to work together. But now they are becoming so much more than that. They are two people who love one another deeply, who've long denied those feelings until it became apparent, even to Kate, that they could be denied no longer, that she didn't want to hide that part of herself from him, that she needed him as much as he wanted and needed her. Castle really couldn't be happier about how things have turned out, so long as they continue getting to know one another in this vein, without backsliding, without regret. He knows her well, and that worries him slightly, for all her reassurances. She has a tendency to run from love for fear of being hurt or let down. And he still has demons of his own. They surround him now, silent in their bone-deep threats, like wraiths unseen but still felt, a battle he must wage by himself to keep from tainting everything.

So he stands still and he breathes, choosing reality over some imagined, self-concocted, fantasy of doom for a change. He focuses on all the evidence before him and around him, all the truths of the last twelve hours, all the good, taking a moment to quiet his busy mind, before he approaches the bed.

* * *

Kate is still naked, as is he, and he doesn't want her getting cold, so he moves towards her as quietly as possible, and then he gets into bed on her side, since she's lying width-ways across the mattress, her body mostly on his side. He leans in close, strokes her hair and then he whispers to her in an attempt to get her to move into a more comfortable position – her head on the pillows and her body under the covers at least.

"Kate, I'm just gonna help you move, okay? You're gonna get cold if you stay like this," he tells her, kissing her forehead to keep her relaxed, hoping his voice isn't so unexpected that it startles her if she's already dreaming.

"Mmm," she murmurs, smiling at him with her eyes still closed.

He gently lays the covers over her and then slides one hand under her lower back and is on the point of helping her move when she comes too quite suddenly.

"Sorry," winces Castle, kneeling back beside her. "I didn't want to wake you, but…" he shrugs, "…you were going to get cold."

Kate yawns and stretches, tugging the covers up to her chin. "Don't worry. I should get up anyway. What time is it?" she asks, tipping her head towards the digital alarm clock on her nightstand.

Castle leans over and checks it for her. "Just after three-thirty. I had no idea it got so late already."

"Time flies when you're having fun," she says, giving him a wink and then she fishes around above the covers for his hand. "Lie down with me for a minute?" she asks, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

Castle hesitates, still slightly on edge, waiting for his hopes to be dashed, if he's honest. "Sure. Everything okay?"

"Everything is _fine_, Castle," Kate tells him, giving him a slightly stern look, as if she can read his mind. "Just…come on, lie down with me. And no, I'm not one of those needy women who wants to be held for hours after sex, in case that's what you're wondering."

"I wasn't. And just for the record, I really wouldn't mind if you were. I'm not averse to a little cuddling myself."

"Good. Then come snuggle with me."

Castle chuckles, quickly joining Kate under the blankets. "Who'd have thought Kate Beckett was a snuggler?"

"Tell the boys and this will be the last snuggling you and I ever do," she warns him, giving out mixed signals when she tugs on his arm to get him to wrap them around her body and wriggles back against him until they are spooning.

Castle is silent for just a couple more seconds before he pipes up again. His default: an inability to shut up.

"What about not telling them you like to snuggle, but telling them—" He pauses to consider exactly how he wants to phrase the rest of his question, disappointed in himself for not thinking things through before he opened his mouth.

"What? That we're…together?" she asks simply, sending his heart into a frantic, thumping, hopeful rhythm.

He's worried he'll look too eager, so he tries to control his wobbly voice and play it cool. "_That_…or dating or however you want to label this."

"Are we dating? Is that what this is? Because we know an awful lot about one another to just be dating, Castle. Don't you think?"

"I'm open to suggestions. Whatever you want to tell people is fine with me, just so long…" he says, leaning in really close, so that they're sharing the same pillow and his mouth is by her ear, "just so long as we can do this again," he whispers, brushing a little kiss against her skin.

* * *

He really does want to play it cool, he does, but she's turned him to mush, and he just can't help himself. Him and his stupid, overeager mouth.

Kate laughs and then rolls onto her back to look at him. He has to let her out of his embrace to give her room to turn towards him and this small thing makes him sad. He has to remind himself not to be a sentimental idiot. He has a whole lot more of her in his life today than he did this time yesterday. Her naked body for starters, since her skin just brushed against his. And her thigh is still pressed against his thigh for God's sake, leaving his whole body alive to the fabulously erotic proximity of hers.

"You think this is a one-off?" she asks, dark eyes watching his face with just the barest hint of amusement.

"I hope not. Point is, we made it and the phone didn't ring," he adds, trying to sound casual and funny. "That must be some kind of a record for us. Not to be interrupted by Honey Milk or Gates."

"Sure. But, Castle, back up a second. You can't surely believe that we went through everything we've been through together and this is just some casual fling?" Kate frowns as she explores Castle's face, trying to get a read on his expression, on his thoughts.

She wraps the covers over her chest and then eases up on one elbow to look down at him properly.

"Do you? I mean, is—? That can't be what this is for you? I _know you_, Castle. We're both too invested in this for it to be anything but serious, right? Tell me I haven't got that wrong? I thought we'd cleared that point up already."

If anyone sounds panicked now, it might just be Kate.

"No. No, you absolutely haven't got it wrong. I just didn't want to presume or push you into something you're not comfortable with. We can take this at any pace you want," he assures her.

"I don't sleep with men on a whim in case you haven't noticed. And the condoms in the drawer over there?" she says, deciding to tackle that issue head on while they seem to be attempting to lay some ground rules and trying to define things. "They've been there a while, let me tell you."

"Okay, fine. Relax. And while we're on that subject, maybe we should talk about…you know."

"What? Protection?"

"That, and…"

"What, Castle? We're grown-ups. Just say it," says Kate, getting a little frustrated with him.

"I know I have this…this bad boy reputation," he begins, raising himself up on his own elbow to look at her properly, so they're on the same level.

"Bachelor number nine?" she grins, taunting him. She gives him a playful little shove.

He smiles self-deprecatingly and looks down at the covers, fussing with them for a few seconds, straightening up her white sheet and folding it over the comforter.

"Yeah, that. Anyway, I hope you know me well enough by now that you can see that was all just a publicity construct designed to sell more books. I'm no playboy, Kate. At least, not for a long time…since I met you."

"So, what are you saying?"

He sighs. "I'm saying that I get an annual health check, I passed with flying colors and I haven't been with anyone since Gina and I broke up well over a year ago."

There's an awkward silence before Kate speaks again. "Okay, full disclosure."

"What does that mean?" asks Castle, shooting her a worried look. "You haven't secretly been going on dates that I wasn't aware of?"

"What do you think?" asks Kate, sitting up fully in bed. She leans back against the headboard and folds her arms over her chest.

"I don't know. Why don't _you_ tell me?" He sounds jealous and he knows it's ridiculous, but being with her now matters more to him than anything and he doesn't want some ugly surprise to leap out at him to ruin everything.

"Castle," she sighs, waiting for him to sit up beside her, all thoughts of snuggling and napping gone for now.

She runs one hand through her hair and lays the other hand down on top of his, curling her fingers under his palm. She squeezes it lightly. "I haven't been with anyone since before I got shot, since I broke up with Josh and left the city. Even then…it was—" She bites her lip and hugs her knees to her chest. "Let's just say Josh and I…we didn't really see a whole lot of one another towards the end," she explains, rubbing her neck in discomfort. She doesn't add 'because of you', but she might as well have.

* * *

Relief floods through him at this news - with these personal details she's just shared about her relationship with Josh - spreading something of a salve on the jealousy and enmity he's always felt towards the guy.

"We have both been single for far too long," says Castle, with a slow shake of his head. "That is just wrong. We're two good-looking people, Beckett. What a waste," he says with comical overemphasis, turning to give her a goofy grin and a playful little nudge with his shoulder, sprinkling a little more of his magic on what could have quickly turned into a really awkward situation.

"So we're good?" asks Kate, nudging him back.

"We're good. However you want to play it with the guys is fine by me. Alexis and my mother probably have it all figured out by now anyway. In their little spy ring of two. That just leaves Lanie, the boys and Gates. Oh, and your dad."

"I…I'm on the pill, Castle. Just so you know," adds Kate, a little haltingly, determined to get everything out there at once before they move off topic.

"Right," nods Castle, squeezing her hand. "That's…that's good to know."

"Just—" Kate shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "I know talking about this kind of thing can be awkward. Especially given our partnership until now. Well, what I mean is…" She sighs, gathering her hair over one shoulder and twisting it into a ponytail.

"Hey. Look, we're new at this, Kate. It'll take a little time until we iron out all the kinks," reassures Castle. "But if you're saying you've got us covered for contraception and condoms are an optional extra in future, then I'm good with that."

Kate grins, a look of relief washing over her face that they're in sync on this level too. "Great," she tells him. "Good. That's…that's great."

* * *

"So, this is nice," says Castle, when they both fall silent again, sitting side-by-side in her bed, resting on a stack back of pillows. "Pretty lazy Saturday so far."

"It is nice. Yeah, I'm usually doing laundry and catching up with chores on the weekend if I'm off. Dry cleaning, paying bills. Sometimes I meet my dad for brunch on a Sunday or we go catch a ball game together during season."

They're learning about one another's private lives – lots of little gems and dark corners still to be mined, despite how well they know each other already.

"I always wondered what you got up to when we weren't together. I…I mean…" Castle frowns, making mistakes left, right and center, though Kate doesn't seem to mind.

"It's okay," she smiles with a new tenderness. "I know what you mean."

"I used to miss you, you know. When we had to go our separate ways at night…or on weekends," he confesses, giving Kate a quick glance to see how this information is going down. "Used to find myself staring at my phone, willing it to ring. Or I'd wonder what you were doing, who you were with…"

"I missed you too," Kate assures him. "Imagine being eager to go into work…just so I could see you. Pretty weird considering what I do for a living," she laughs.

"I wish we had both been braver."

"Shhh," Kate whispers, turning towards him so that her knees rest on his thigh beneath the covers. She touches his lips with the tip of her finger. "Let's look forward, okay? I've spent too much of my life looking back, Castle, and I can tell you from bitter experience, that all you get is a kink in your neck and a slap in the face when you turn around and realize you missed the something wonderful that was standing right in front of you, if only you'd been paying attention and looking the right way."

"That is wise advice. So, we look forward. And I meant what I said before about taking this at a pace you're comfortable with. I have a tendency to be an all or nothing kind of guy, get a little over exuberant, in case you hadn't noticed," he tells her, eyebrows wiggling up for emphasis, poking fun at himself.

Kate laughs and leans against him. "I had noticed once or twice."

"So, if I get a little…"

"Clingy?" giggles Kate.

"_That_ or if I try to move in with you within the first month, just pack my bags and send me back to the loft."

Kate laughs again, but her heart is racing. This talk is exactly one they needed to have, and hearing Castle be so openly committed to this is thrilling and comforting rather than off-putting.

"So, tell me…am I scaring you off yet?" he teases, tucking the covers more tightly around them.

"It'll take a lot more than that," she assures him. "I didn't keep you waiting until I was sure just to have a casual fling with you or some…friends with benefits thing. I wanted to be sure because our friendship means so much to me. I wanted to be certain that I wouldn't lose that if we tried to become more and failed."

"You know, I've never considered us failing before," Castle says, suddenly looking serious again.

"We won't. I'm just saying, I'm in this for the long haul, if you are?"

"You sound so sure." And she is. She's realizing that now more than ever - just how certain she is that they have what it takes to get through.

"Finding out that I lied to you yesterday might have forced my hand on the timing a little. But, Castle, I was ready. I needed the push that you gave me."

"In that case, glad I could help."

* * *

Kate has something else she wants to share with him and there's no time like the present, she realizes.

"I…I've actually been seeing a therapist for…well, months now," she admits, glancing at him. "Since the shooting."

Castle turns to look at her, surprise evident in his voice. "I had no idea."

"Mmm. I just wanted to put in the work before I told anyone. He's a good guy. Name's Dr. Burke. Carter Burke."

"And he's helping you…I mean with the shooting and everything?" he asks with genuine concern for her.

"Yes, with the shooting…but also with us," she tells him frankly, no place to hide in the quiet of her bedroom.

"Us?" asks Castle, frowning, since this is the last thing he would have expected her to talk to a professional about.

"Mmm-hmm. I've talked to him about you. Quite a lot, actually. He's been helping me work through a lot of stuff."

"You want to talk about it?"

Kate hesitates for a second and Castle jumps in immediately to reassure her, misconstruing the care she's taking over her words with reluctance. "We don't have to. Another time maybe."

"No. No, I want you to know these things. It might help you understand why I didn't rush into this, even though I was sure how I felt about you."

She smooths the comforter over her lap before continuing.

"We talked about my fear of losing what we already had if I screwed this up. You've been an important part of my life for a long time, Castle, whether you knew it or not. That was primarily what was holding me back. Well, that and not feeling I was good enough."

"Good enough?" asks Castle with incredulity, this idea as absurd to him as if she just said she's obese.

"You're a great guy, Castle. You're…a family man, you're a successful author with a _good life_. I've been messed up for a long time, driven to the point of obsession at times. You know that. I wanted to be sure that I could be good for you. I had Alexis to consider too."

Castle couldn't really love her any more than he already does if he wanted to. But her consideration for his daughter over her own happiness or any personal gratification makes his heart swell all over again.

"What did Dr. Burke say?" he asks calmly, keen to let her talk this out as much as she wants to so that they understand each other as best they can, since that way lies the greatest chance of them succeeding.

"He encouraged me to talk to you, to be honest with you. He wanted me to tell you that I heard you in the cemetery."

The silence that falls over the bedroom is weighed down with feeling - with Castle's hurt and Kate's regret.

"But you didn't. Why?" he asks, keeping his tone neutral so as not to imply any further criticism.

They've done that already – raked over the coals, pointed the finger of blame and then tried to bury it. He's forgiven her as best he can while it's still slightly raw. Now he just wants to understand her thought processes, fears and motivations better.

"I should have. I was too slow, I know. Point is, when things blew up yesterday, I knew what I had to do, Castle. I knew I didn't want to lose you, that there's never a perfect time to take a chance on something this special. With Dr. Burke's help I ran towards you instead of in the other direction. That's what he did for me."

Castle is impressed by her level of self-awareness and her courage to be able to talk openly about her experience of therapy. This is all good progress on her part. She's better, he can see that now; can see the sincerity on her face, the light in her eyes, can hear her genuine care for him, her fear that she might have lost him over this.

"Then good. He sounds like a great guy," he tells her resolutely.

"He is."

"Maybe someday I can shake his hand. Thank him for helping both of us."

"I'm sure he'd like that. You're way more fun than I am."

"I don't know about that. You're pretty fun when you want to be."

* * *

They smile at one another, and then Kate gets an idea.

"Actually, I'm kinda starving," she declares, as if the thought has just snuck up on her and surprised her. "Wanna get something to eat? We kind of missed lunch. Only if you can stay, obviously."

Castle is thrilled that she wants him here, but he reins in his exuberance to be certain.

"You sure you haven't had enough of me? I don't want to monopolize your time this weekend."

"Earlier, we said cards on the table, right?"

Castle nods.

"I'd like you to stay over tonight if Alexis and Martha can spare you, give us the whole weekend to just…spend some private time together before we have to go back out there," explains Kate, jabbing her thumb towards the window.

"Okay, then cards on the table from me. I feel like all my Christmases and birthdays have come at once, so you will have to throw me out of here if you let me get any more settled."

Kate laughs.

"I'm used to your crazy, remember?" she smirks. "You want the usual on your pizza?"

"We're having pizza?"

"Tell me you don't feel like pizza right now," she gloats, pretty sure he probably does.

"You can read my mind now too? Should I be worried?"

"Nope. Your impure thoughts are now my impure thoughts, Castle. Relax."

He laughs and it's so easy, being with her like this.

"Let me check in with my mother and Alexis. You order the pizza. Oh, and maybe help me find my clothes?" he says, looking around her bedroom floor.

"How about you wear my t-shirt and your shorts for now? I'll throw your clothes in the laundry overnight. Because believe me, you won't be needing them," she tells him, getting out of bed with a graceful unfurling of her long limbs, throwing him a saucy smile over her shoulder.

* * *

Castle lunges after her. He manages to grab her hand and tug just before she makes it out of reach, toppling her back down onto the bed with a squeal of surprise.

"Have I told you that I love you today?" he asks, crawling over her body and planting his hands either side of her head.

"Tell me again," she insists, gazing up at him lovingly, while she reaches out to cup his jaw and stroke his cheek.

"I am so in love with you it's probably not healthy," he confesses.

"Not healthy?" grins Kate, amused as ever by his flair for dramatic hyperbole.

"Mmm. I'm not going to be able to think about anything else from now on. People we meet will take one look at my stupid love-struck face and just know…_instantly_," he tells her, snapping his fingers.

Kate shakes her head, fighting back a goofy grin. "And that's not healthy?"

"No. The boys are gonna beat my ass if I put a foot wrong. And Lanie has so many clever, traceless ways to dispatch with a body I don't even want to think about that."

"Better not put a foot wrong then, _lover boy_," she tells him, playfully patting his cheek.

"Oooo, lover boy? I think I like that better than writer boy," muses Castle.

"Well, then you should let me get up and order us some food. Because the sooner we get some sustenance, the sooner we can road test that new nickname of yours."

_TBC..._

* * *

_As usual, if you can spare thirty seconds to share your thoughts I'd love to hear them. Hope everyone is having a good weekend._


	13. Chapter 13 - Dwelling

_A/N: You continue to astound me with your enthusiasm and love for this story. Thank you so much for sharing your views._

* * *

**_Chapter 13 – Dwelling_**

Castle is perched on the arm of her sofa, chatting to Alexis on his cell phone while watching Kate Beckett potter around her kitchen late on a Saturday afternoon, and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world.

"_Dad!_" Alexis demands in a burst of frustration, trying to grab his attention which has evidently wandered elsewhere.

Castle's head snaps down, eyes focused on the coffee table – a far safer, less distracting place to look than the spot his eyes have remained riveted to up until now. "Yes, pumpkin?"

"Are you and Beckett an item or not?"

"We are," he grins, and even he can hear the giddy delight in his own voice.

He is so done for when they finally have to leave Kate's apartment and confront the outside world. Their relationship is going to remain a secret for all of five seconds if can't find a way to tamp down his excitement and wipe the dreamy grin off his face when they're around other people – particularly a certain male detective duo they know.

Alexis squeals, and it's so unexpected and piercing at the same time that Kate spins around to stare at him, a kitchen towel dangling from her damp hands. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen in surprise.

"Finally! That's is so cool. Tell Detective Beckett I said hi," Alexis instructs her dad, leaving his mouth hanging open too, since even Alexis has managed to surprise him with her positive, enthusiastic reaction to his happy news.

Kate leaves the room while he's still chatting to his daughter, ruffling his hair affectionately as she passes. He manages to smack her on the rear before she moves completely out of reach, and she lets out a yelp of surprise that sets him off chuckling.

"_Eww._ Are you two being sickeningly adorable already?" asks Alexis, her tone quickly turned disdainful.

Castle can imagine her pale little nose wrinkled in distaste, her blemish-free forehead marred by a frown.

"Come on, we've _always_ been adorable," argues Castle, roaring with laughter when Alexis makes retching sounds down the phone.

He's still smiling when he ends the call a few minutes later just as Kate returns to the living room. She's carrying a bulky, navy blue plush bathrobe.

"This should fit," she tells him, holding the robe open for him. "Lanie stole it from a hotel in Vegas a couple of years ago, then she palmed it off on me because it was far too long for her. I think it's man-size."

"If you can't do the time, don't do the crime," sings-songs Castle, shrugging the robe on over the t-shirt and underwear he currently has on.

"Fits not bad," remarks Kate, tugging on the broad lapels until they're toe-to-toe and he's grinning down at her.

Castle slings his arms low down on her waist, clasping them behind her back, holding her snugly against him.

"Navy is definitely your color," she whispers, nudging his nose with her own.

"Mm, you like?" he grins, arching one eyebrow. A little sexy, a little cocky.

"Definitely," she agrees, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him, her fingers still gripping firmly to his lapels, partly for balance and partly because she just doesn't want to let go of him.

And unshaven Richard Castle, wrapped up in plush, is one of the sexiest and yet most adorable sights she's ever seen.

* * *

They're busy enjoying their new favorite hobby – slow, deep, languorous kissing – hands starting to roam over and under clothing, just on the point of getting a little too excited, when her front door buzzer sounds.

"Dinner," sighs Kate regretfully, sinking back down onto her heels. She props her forehead against his shoulder for a second to catch her breath, pressing her fingertips to her damp lips.

Castle rubs her back, a gentle, lazy circle of his hand that sooths her, until the buzzer sounds again - a longer, more demanding tone this time - and they reluctantly pull apart.

"My wallet is in my pants, and my pants are…God, where did I leave my pants, Beckett?" he wails, spinning helplessly in the center of her living room.

"Relax, I got it," laughs Kate, already heading for the door with her own wallet in her hand.

Of the pair of them, she is most definitely the more presentable. She has leggings on, bare feet, and a white t-shirt under a grey hooded top. Castle is stranded in a hotel bathrobe with wrinkled, day-old boxer shorts and a borrowed NYPD t-shirt. Not exactly how he wants to meet her neighbors if they chance to pass by on their way down the hall.

"Grab the plates from the oven," Kate yells over her shoulder, while she pays and tips the delivery boy, juggling the door and their food.

Castle looks as if his mouth might be watering when she returns to the kitchen with the large take-out pizza box. He follows her as if she's the Pied Piper and he's some spellbound little kid, which he kind of is in a way.

"God, that smells so _good_," he declares, stretching across to lift the lid when she puts the box down on her kitchen table.

Kate slaps the back of his hand with a silicone slotted spatula. "Nah-ah! Napkins and plates," she insists, one hand on her hip, pointing him in the other direction with the spatula.

"Oh God, my work wife just became my—"

"Do _not_ say it," grins Kate, wagging a finger at him to make him shut up. "Do not say it or there will be _no_ dessert for you."

"What's for dessert?" asks Castle boldly, eyes dancing with fun. "I mean, do you mean an _actual_ dessert. Or are we talking sex here?"

Kate stills and eyes him suspiciously. "Will it make a difference?"

"Well…I _really_ like ice cream, but…"

"_But?_" asks Kate, narrowing her eyes at him dangerously. "I'd be careful what you say next, Castle, if I were you."

"What happened to _'lover boy'_?" he grins cheekily, taunting her with air quotes.

"Lover boy will be demoted back down to _'writer boy'_ pretty quickly if he doesn't watch what he's saying," she tells him, fetching the warm plates from the oven herself.

* * *

When Kate turns around again, Castle has the lid of the pizza box open and a slice of pepperoni halfway to his lips. A long string of melted Mozzarella is trailing out behind the red-hot piece of cured sausage meat like some cheesy umbilicus.

Nowhere to hide and nowhere to run.

"Are you always so…wait, what am I even saying?" she asks herself, slapping a hand to her forehead. "Like I should be surprised that now we're sleeping together you're _still_ not following orders."

Castle is blowing on his burnt fingertips. "Beckett, relax," he tells her, living dangerously for some reason, "It's just pepperoni."

"No, it's a _principle_," she argues, really talking more about his general inability to follow orders than the topping he just pinched off their pizza.

And instantly they are back to being them, the awkward newness of the situation beginning to fade already.

"I'm hungover. We haven't _eaten_ in hours, you…excuse me, but you just fucked my brains out, and now you want me to get all principled about pepperoni?" smirks Castle, playing up to his traditional comedic role.

Kate bites her lip in an attempt to stifle the smile demanding to break out all over her face and she slowly shakes her head.

"Fine. Help yourself," she sighs, waving a hand at the food and giving in to him. "But drop the hangover nonsense. After what we just did in there," she adds, waving the spatula towards the bedroom, "that defense won't stand up in court."

She suspects she might find herself giving in to his 'demands' a whole lot more from now on. She's as much of a lost cause as he is when it comes to indulging her partner, now that the last bricks have toppled from that shaky wall that stood between them and coupledom.

"Ha! You know I'm right," Castle crows, while Kate efficiently splits the pizza onto two plates.

"Just bring the napkins," she tells him, trying to summon a withering look and failing miserably.

She's too happy to have him here. It's a weekend and they have tentative plans, and okay it's only to go back to bed again, but she isn't alone, doing laundry or catching a movie by herself. She might never need to go to a movie alone again, she realizes, and that is a really good feeling.

* * *

They sit at her dining table, catty corner to one another, to enjoy their food. Kate has one foot up on her chair, knee poking just above the tabletop, while her other leg swings ceaselessly back and forth beneath the table, and she talks with her hands in between feeding herself healthy bites of pizza.

Castle misses his mouth a couple of times just watching her entertain him in this easy, relaxed manner, which he supposes partly comes from being in her own home. Their guards are completely down. Kate has never looked so relaxed to him before – free of worry and responsibility. She seems so comfortable and at ease, and he hopes that he has at least something to do with that, because she looks genuinely happy.

"_What?_" she asks self-consciously, when Castle gives up trying to eat altogether and just sits back in his chair, sipping his water and watching her instead.

"_You_," he replies with an easy smile, stealing a black olive off her plate while her attention is elsewhere, popping it between his smile-stretched lips.

"Me what? And eat your own food, Castle," he scolds him, drawing her plate further out of his reach.

It doesn't work. He just uses his long arm to reach over and snaffle another one, popping it into his mouth with a bold little grin.

"Is that supposed to be cute?" asks Kate, her eyebrows raised in question.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Your point of view."

Kate sighs, dumps her napkin on the table and sits back. "Right, enlighten me," she tells him, waving her hand for him to spill his explanation; one she's sure will have a unique, amusing, Castle twist to it.

"_Well_, you think I'm cute, right?" he says confidently, as if this is a well-known, cast-iron fact. He gives her no time to reply, just carries on with his theory. "And lovers eating food off each other's plates is always cute. Ergo…yes, this is definitely cute."

"But you said _depends_, inferring that it might not be cute," Kate points out craftily.

"Well, yeah," Castle shrugs, as if it should be patently obvious why not. "If you're _Esposito_ this would not be cute. Guy doesn't have a sentimental bone in his body."

Kate laughs in surprise. "Oh, come on. That's hardly fair or accurate."

"You honestly think he'd find me eating your food cute? He'd probably cuff me to the chair. Both hands," adds Castle, performing a little jazz hands display in front of her.

"I think you're being a little dramatic," declares Kate, tearing off a piece of cheese and then licking her fingers after she daintily puts it in her mouth.

"How long have you known me? This surprises you?" asks Castle, deadpan.

"True."

"How'd you think he'll take it? Us."

"Who, Espo?"

"Mmm," nods Castle, taking a long drink of water.

Kate watches his throat bob as he swallows, and then she licks her own lips when he flicks his tongue out to catch a water droplet before it can run down his chin.

"You know you're totally making love to me with your eyes and your mouth right now," Castle teases her, chuckling when a blush rushes up her neck to color her cheeks.

Kate tosses her napkin at his face and then abruptly rises to clear their plates, the back legs of her chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor.

Castle stands too, still laughing quietly as he follows her into the kitchen.

* * *

Kate empties discarded pieces of crust into the trash and sets the pizza box aside for recycling, while castle runs hot water into the sink and begins washing their dishes. The scene is one of utter domesticity - the kind of practiced teamwork displayed by married couples or two people who have been living together for a long time. The significance is lost on neither of them eventually.

"We're good at this," notes Castle, handing Kate a plate to dry.

"Washing dishes?" she laughs, giving him a strange look.

"Teamwork," he tells her, shaking his head at her giggling.

"Right, teamwork," repeats Kate, sobering up.

She feels giddy with relief at their recent achievements, and those feelings keep bubbling up to the surface, no matter how she tries to contain them.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" asks Castle, and Kate feels a tremor of trepidation shoot through her.

She tries hard to sound breezy when she replies. "Sure."

"When you were seeing Dr. Burke…"

"Mmm?"

"Did he ever…I don't know, _suggest_ it might not be a good idea to continue pursuing your mom's case?"

Kate looks up sharply at his question. "No. I—no, why would he?"

Now it's Castle's turn to feel a little panicked. He shouldn't have gone there, he quickly realizes, and so he tries to pass his question off as unimportant curiosity.

He shakes his head and carries on cleaning the kitchen with more diligence than necessary. "No reason. Just…" He shrugs.

"Come on, that question did _not_ come from nowhere, Castle. You must have had a reason for asking," Kate pushes gently.

"Just…sometimes I wonder if it would be safer if…if we dropped it."

"Safer? Castle, they _killed_ my _mother_," emphasizes Kate, if any emphasis were needed.

Internally, he's suddenly tied up in knots, while externally, he tries to figure out a way to calm things down, smooth over his ill-judged question; one that is really just a projection of his own fears and guilt.

* * *

Before they can get into it anymore, there's a sharp knock at the front door.

Kate glances at the door, frowning, and then she looks back at Castle. She lightly touches his arm. "Let me see who that is. I'll be right back," she tells him, squeezing his wrist, her mind obviously somewhere else.

Castle carries on clearing up and putting the dishes away. He's kicking himself for injecting this dark and serious subject matter into what was turning out to be such a peaceful, happy weekend off for her.

He glances over at the door when he runs out of surfaces to wipe down or things to put away. He can hear Kate talking to someone, an older woman's voice making up the other half of the conversation, and he waits for her a few seconds longer in the kitchen before wandering off into the bedroom so that she doesn't come back in and think he was eavesdropping.

He collects his pants and shirt off the chair in the living room on his way past, along with the blankets Kate gave him the night before. He finds a hanger in her closet and hangs his clothes up, and then he folds the blankets and lays them on top of the dresser while he makes the bed. He's just smoothing down the navy comforter when Kate appears in the bedroom doorway.

"House broken _and_ well trained. You _are_ a catch," she grins, resting her head on the doorjamb to watch him.

Castle spins guiltily. "Ha!" he laughs, at her joke. "Figure I'm lazing around your apartment in a robe and my underwear. That's hardly impressive, so…thought the least I could do is tidy up after myself," he shrugs.

Kate walks towards him smiling. "I like you just fine like this," she tells him, wrapping the robe a little tighter over his chest. "More than fine, actually."

"Everything okay out there?" asks Castle, nodding towards the front door.

"Oh, that? Yeah. That was just my neighbor, Mrs. Henderson. She likes to corner me for a gossip every now and then. I guess she must have heard us moving around in here, knew I was home. She's a massive true crime fan and a little lonely. Likes to pump me for information on my latest case. I think she believes one day she'll help me solve one."

"And you tell her stuff?" Castle asks in surprise.

Kate laughs and shakes her head. "No, no way. Come on, you know me. I barely told _you_ stuff in the beginning, and we were supposed to be working together."

"You kept me out of the loop on purpose?" pouts Castle, as if this is news.

"Sometimes," nods Kate, playfully tugging on the tie of his robe. "But usually it was for your own good…_that_, or my own sanity."

"Aw-shucks, I'm touched," he tells her, kissing the tip of her nose.

"You should be. Anyone else would have been sent packing long ago, friend of the Mayor or not."

"So you did like me," Castle says, with an ah-ha point of his finger.

"I liked your joie de vie, your…enthusiasm and your optimistic take on life. There's a difference."

But the way she's smiling at him as she tells him this, he doesn't care about distinctions. She liked him then and she loves him now, and that's all there is to it.

"Can we go up on the roof?" asks Castle, changing the subject.

"Might be cold."

"We could take blankets?" he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Well, I _was_ going to ask if you wanted coffee. But how about I make us hot chocolate and we take that up with us?"

"I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you…besides your beautiful—"

"Careful, Castle!" warns Kate, leading him back out towards the kitchen.

"Mind! Your beautiful _mind,_" smirks Castle.

"Mmm-hmm," hums Kate, dubiously.

* * *

Kate makes the hot chocolate, while Castle goes back to the bedroom to get dressed. She gathers a couple of blankets and two old cushions for them to sit on, and then they carry the whole lot up the internal staircase from her kitchen to the little rooftop garden terrace she has all to herself.

A blast of cool, fresh air hits Castle as soon as he follows her out through the door at the top of the stairs, carrying the two mugs of hot chocolate. But it feels fantastic after being indoors all night and most of the day so far. The lungsful of fresh oxygen he breathes in feel invigorating and help clear the last of his tired, fuzzy head.

"Kate, this is amazing," he tells her, turning in a circle to admire her little patch of heaven.

She has a bench tucked up against the protective wall of the building and trough-like planters placed here and there to grow fresh herbs and flowers.

"Haven't been up here in a while, like I said," she reminds him, brushing her hand over an over-grown lavender bush, the leaves turned a pale greyish color out of season, all the flowers now dried and weather-bleached to a dusty lilac.

"Why don't we sit for a bit out of the wind and drink these before they go cold," suggests Kate, laying the two cushions down on the bench.

Once Castle is seated beside her, she spreads one blanket over their laps and wraps the second one around their shoulders. Only then does Castle hand her a mug of hot chocolate.

"Settled?" he asks, carefully placing the cup in her grasp.

"Yip. I can't believe the sun is almost set already," says Kate, looking over at a taller building nearby whose lights are already illuminated on most of the floors, throwing out a yellowish glow.

* * *

The view from her rooftop is a typical Greenwich Village vista – angular old buildings made of red brick, some painted white or cream, stretch out below, staggered in height, like ancient blocks of Lego. Black, wrought iron fire escapes snake back and forth down the facades of these buildings like jagged, hand-stitched scars. The block opposite hers is taller – over ten stories high – and so a bleached wooden water tower rises up on spindly metal legs, its circular pointed 'hat' of a roof reminding Castle once more of the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. Endless boxy air conditioning units hum on rooftops all around them, adding another familiar feature to this snapshot of Manhattan skyline.

The surface of Kate's roof is decked out, and a waist-high wall runs all the way round the perimeter, potted plants sheltering in the corners out of the wind.

Kate cups her mug between both hands and blows on the surface of the hot drink before sipping.

"We need to use the last couple of days as a lesson, Castle," she tells him, after a quiet moment's pause.

"And the lesson is?" he asks, leaning into her a little more.

"That we both took a chance, even though we were scared and hurt and maybe a little angry at each other, and that leap of faith turned into this."

"Hot chocolate on your roof terrace while we watch the sunset on a landmark Saturday?" he offers.

Kate laughs quietly at Castle's summation. "Yeah, pretty much."

"And I think that's pretty amazing. I know I can be a flippant jackass sometimes, and I make light of things when maybe I shouldn't."

"Hey, we all need our coping mechanisms."

"Still, I just want you to know how special the last couple of days have turned out to be. I have loved you so long and so hard from afar, and on Friday afternoon when I left the precinct, I thought I was still miles away from having another chance to tell you that, never mind getting to be here with you, Kate."

"That's what I mean about the lesson we need to take from all of this. We were only ever _one_ awkward conversation away from building some kind of future together this whole time…if that's where we're headed with this."

"Is it?" asks Castle, a little sharply, betraying his own anxiety on the matter.

He glances at Kate to try to read her expression. It's getting dark quickly now, the setting sun is throwing up an arc of orange, peach and gold beneath a dark grey and purple heather colored sky. But Kate's face is bathed in shadows, her hair silhouetted against the halo of warm light shining through her apartment's pebbled glass windows at the top of the stairs to the rooftop.

"I'd like it to be. Very much. I know it might seem crazy to some people, given our vastly different backgrounds, but somehow we just…"

Kate shrugs, and then, simultaneously, they both say, "Fit."

They laugh quietly at this further example of their synchronicity, and then glance at one another shyly.

Castle clinks his mug against Kate's. "Then here's to the future, Detective, whatever it may hold for us. Bring it on."

"Here, here," agrees Kate.

She finishes her hot chocolate and puts her mug down on the end of the old bench.

* * *

"So, I heard Alexis squeal over the phone. Should I be worried?" she asks, drawing the blanket tighter around them.

"Worried? No," chuckles Castle, putting his own mug aside and slipping his arm around her shoulders beneath the covers. "Unless you're not keen on my teenage daughter pestering you for tales of your college days or general advice on life and fashion. She's pretty much in awe of you, you know."

"In awe?" asks Kate, turning to stare at Castle in surprise. "I thought she hated me."

"No, she never hated you. I'm not even sure she's capable of hating anyone. Just look at her mother. She's protective of me, so she worries. I think it comes from having only one reliable parent. When she sees me sad or upset…" he shrugs, "…she takes is personally."

"I know I have work to do to prove myself to both Alexis and Martha. But I'm not afraid of that anymore…I'm not afraid of letting them see how I really feel about you. I will be there for you as much as you've been there for me from now on, Castle. There's no reason not to be anymore."

"Does that mean you'll protect me from over-sexed female fans at book signings?" teases Castle, bumping her with his shoulder.

"I would happily have done that before. But firstly, I thought you kind of liked the attention, and secondly, I think it might have looked a little strange if I'd stepped in and staked a claim."

"But you'd be willing to now?"

"How over-sexed are we talking here? I might just have to."

Castle laughs and Kate drops her head down to rest on his shoulder.

"While we're on the subject, can we have a new rule for book events?" she asks, placing her hand on his leg.

"Let me guess," grins Castle, turning to kiss the top of her head. "No more breast signing?"

"How did you know?" laughs Kate, rocking against his side.

"Wild guess. You didn't approve before. So, I hardly think you'd find it appropriate now. While we're thrashing things out, can I ask for a new rule too?"

"You can try," chuckles Kate, sighing into the darkness, feeling relaxed and at peace.

"Actually, I have two."

"_Right_," says Kate slowly. "What the first one?"

"Marshmallows and whipped cream are _essential_ ingredients for making hot chocolate. You let me stock your pantry with proper food?"

"_Proper food?_" asks Kate, thoroughly amused. "So, a can of whipped cream and a bag of marshmallows are your idea of proper food?"

"_Plus _popcorn and ice cream. Tell me you at least have those?" he asks, as if he's just asked whether she brought her gun and cuffs to serve a warrant.

Kate ignores his question. "And the second new rule?"

"Talk to me." His face is deadly serious when he makes this request.

Kate sits up straight. "What, that's it?" she asks in surprise, prepared to have to negotiate a more ludicrous request.

"Yep, that's it. But you don't always _do_ that, Kate, in case you hadn't noticed. And by talk I mean _share_. If you're worried about something or…or sad or have some kind of problem, I want you to tell me so that we can talk about it and find a solution together. Can you do that?"

"I will certainly try. But I've been alone for a long time, Castle, don't forget. Even in the past, when I was with someone, I never shared my innermost thoughts with them. I just got on with life and figured things out for myself."

"Yeah, well this is different. _Now_, things are different. _We're_ different," Castle tells her, and for once he sounds serious, mature and determined. "You're not alone anymore, Kate. So, let…me…in," he tells her, punctuating each word with a kiss.

Kate nods and when a surprising gust of wind whips over the parapet of the roof, she feels the moisture of her own tears on her cheeks. She's glad of the darkness all of a sudden. The wind makes her shiver, and Castle squeezes her tighter.

"Ready to go back down?"

"Yeah," she nods, leaning in to kiss him softly, lingering for a few seconds.

She slips her arm free of the blanket and cups the back of his neck, drawing him down towards her. Her fingers slide through his hair and Castle makes such a needful sound at this gentle caress, moaning into her mouth, his tongue stroking hers, and heat flares low down in her stomach, licking at her insides.

Kate pulls out of the kiss first and drops her forehead against his. "Come on. Let's go back inside," she tells him, tangling their fingers together. "I feel like an early night."

_TBC..._

* * *

_Love to hear your thoughts..._


	14. Chapter 14 - Moving Forward Together

_A/N: Again, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and messages you have been leaving me in relation to this story. You're making it a hard one to walk away from._

_I should probably have pointed this out sooner, but the facts of Castle's secret - his investigation, the murder board and Mr. Smith - these are beyond the scope of this story. So I won't be getting into that. He mentions asking if Dr. Burke ever advised her to walk away from her mom's case purely because the thought of losing her now terrifies him (both of them actually). But he was projecting his feelings, not actively thinking about his own 'lie' because he doesn't consider it to be a lie as such. In his mind, he is only protecting her, so the secret he has yet to share has a positive spin by his way of thinking._

_This story is about 47 Seconds, the exposing of Kate's lie and their reactions to that. I covered off Castle's private investigation and Kate's discovery of it in the story 'Missed Opportunities', if you're interested to see a take on how that went down._

_Anyway, on we go with this tale..._

_Warning: This is another 'M' chapter, in case you're at work or on the bus. :)_

* * *

**_Chapter 14 – Moving Forward Together_**

It's only their second night together, late Saturday fading out towards what Kate hopes will be an equally lazy and romantic Sunday.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" she asks Castle, as together they fold up the blankets they used on the roof.

"Take you out for breakfast and show you off," declares Castle without a second's hesitation, a proud-as-punch expression on his face.

Kate laughs, amused by his enthusiasm and surprised by his answer, but she doesn't contradict him since his plan sounds pretty perfect to her.

"And maybe after we can go for a walk?" she suggests, pausing to take the folded blanket from him.

She hugs the blanket to her chest, and he waits to hear what's coming next, because there's a reason for her suggestion. This is Kate Beckett and she does little without good reason.

"There's this tree in Central Park…"

She meets his eyes briefly, just a hint of shyness in them, before turning away to collect the second blanket from the top of the dresser. "Just give me a second to put these away. I'll be right back," she tells him, pausing at the bedroom door to give him a slow, easy smile over her shoulder.

"A tree? You have me intrigued, Detective," calls out Castle when she disappears.

He sits down on the end of the bed to await her return from the linen closet in the hall. "Go on, the tree?" he tells her as soon as she reappears, eager as a child to hear her story.

"Yeah, so there's this tree up near the reservoir. It's behind the fence on the southern edge of the cinder track. A big old oak with a gnarly trunk that looks like gargoyle faces. My mom and I used to walk there sometimes. We carved our names into that old tree when I was ten. I haven't been there in years. I'd like to take you there so we can visit it."

Castle sits up straighter, and then he rubs his palms on his thighs, a slow smile growing on his face. "Wait, so, let me get this straight. Law-abiding, perfect, little Katie Beckett was a _vandal_? Aged ten?" he squawks, clapping his hands with glee.

"Relax, Castle. We carved our initials into a tree. We didn't tag the walls of Macy's," drawls Kate, leaning against the dresser, always so cool no matter how crazy he gets.

Castle shakes his head in wonder and smiles that lopsided at her, grateful to be able to share in more of her life's stories, excited that she wants to take him to see her tree – hers and her mom's. "You are _full_ of surprises."

Kate smiles back, arms crossed over her chest. "I hope you're still saying that a few years from now."

Castle holds out his hand to her and Kate takes it, letting him draw her closer, reeling her all the way in until she's standing between his legs. He runs both hands up the outside of her thighs, and then he spreads his fingers wide to encircle her hips and drops his head forward to rest his cheek against her stomach.

"You have never stopped surprising me in all the years I've known you. I doubt that's ever going to change."

Kate cradles the back of his head against her stomach and lets her other hand skim down over his back. "Sometimes I'm still thrown when you turn up at the precinct," she confesses, as she runs her fingers through his hair and then gently strokes his ear.

Castle looks up at her, intrigued, his hair mussed by the cotton fabric of her t-shirt.

Kate briefly catches his eye and then looks off into the distance. "I look up from reading a case file or…or looking at my computer screen some mornings, and there you are - this handsome man who looks so familiar, smiling at me with the perfect cup of coffee in his hand," she grins, a dreamy quality to her smile. "I felt like I knew you before I ever met you, you know that?"

"The books?" he asks quietly.

Kate nods. "Yes. But I was wrong about you. Because you're so much more than just an inventive storyteller who keeps readers gripped with his words and clever plots."

Castle guides her to sit down on his knee and she goes reluctantly at first, feeling awkward for a moment or two, since she hasn't sat on a man's knee since she was a child. But he slings his arm around her waist and rests his head against her chest and suddenly it's okay again. She wraps her arms around him and resumes toying with his ear.

"We're lucky, Castle. So very lucky."

Castle is listening to her heart beating, and he couldn't agree more. He's pretty much always felt like a lucky guy, given the gifts life has bestowed on him – his looks, his easy charm and likeability, his daughter and the ability to write, to do what he loves for a living. But being with Kate rises above and beyond every other advantage he has, except for the blessing of his child.

* * *

Castle moves at length, trying to juggle Kate - who is perched on his right thigh - and get blood flow back into his foot, which has gone to sleep. That's when Kate makes the decision for him. She stands and offers him both of her hands to haul him upright.

"Come on, I said let's get an early night and it's already after eight."

Kate runs her hands down Castle's arms, stopping at his elbows to stretch up and kiss him; a quickly, light peck on the lips as she hold onto him.

Then, unexpectedly, she begins to undress him. He's still wearing her NYPD t-shirt beneath his own dress shirt, which is hanging open all the way down the front. Gently, she takes hold of each wrist in turn and unbuttons his cuffs, before sliding the shirt off his shoulders and dropping it onto the bed.

"Do I get a turn?" he asks her, tugging on the pull-tab of her hoodie's zipper, which currently rests at cleavage height.

He wiggles the tab from side-to-side, a playful look on his face. The smooth, hairless, inner skin of his arm brushes back and forth over the side of her breast as he does so.

"That boob graze was _not_ accidental," she smirks at him. "When we're at work, you know you're going to have to your keep your distance."

Castle drops his hands onto her waist and tugs her in closer, so that their stomachs and thighs connect. "It's been a while since I fully kept my distance, Detective," he warns her, palming her ass with one large hand and squeezing.

Kate places a hand on his chest between them. "You know what I mean. Working together could become a problem if this gets out. We can't give Gates a reason to stop you from being my partner."

Castle frowns, as if he's considering that prospect for the first time ever. "That…that can't happen. Can it?"

Kate sighs. "Castle, you know she's been gunning for you since she arrived. And yes, it can happen. The department frowns on interpersonal relationships between co-workers."

"But I'm not even on the payroll. That should make a difference, surely?"

"You'd think. And maybe by the letter of the law… But this is Captain Gates we're talking about. One false move and she will nail you to the wall. So, you'd better keep your hands to yourself when we're at work, is all I'm saying," repeats Kate, sliding both of her own hands up and over his chest, suggestively, a move that is entirely contrary to the advice she's currently giving him.

"In that case, I guess I'd better make the most of being able to touch you in private."

"Finally he catches on," laughs Kate, stepping back a little to allow him room to unzip her hoodie.

* * *

The rest of their clothes are swift to follow, a mangled pile of garments strewn on the floor at the foot of her bed.

But their lovemaking is nothing but slow this time, and there's a beauty to it Kate hadn't expected to find so quickly; an exquisite blend of sensuality, passion, care and longing. And since this is Castle, the magic ingredient – _levity_ - sprinkles fairy dust on the proceedings to rock her world in a way no man ever has.

Castle leads her back to bed, but then he lets Kate take over. Naked, they lie down together on top of the covers, the room lit by several candles and the meager ambient light shining in from the street outside.

"Let's go slow," Kate whispers, golden candlelight flickering over her face and hair, gilding it beautifully and making it shine.

Shadows leap and shrink whenever a flame gutters, sending monstrous, black shapes dancing across her bedroom ceiling. But they are inside together and this cocoon they've made feels safe and warm.

"Slow? Okay. Tell me what you want, what you like, Kate," replies Castle, watching her as she rises above him onto her hands and knees, her body a magnificent work of art he will never tire of studying.

"I like how you touch me. You touch me as if you just…you know me so well already," she confesses, her eyes roaming his torso before slipping up to engage with his face again. Her cheeks are flushed and her irises glitter in the dark.

Castle watches in awe as she raises one leg and slowly throws it over his so that she is straddling him half way down his thighs. He slides his palms up over her smooth skin until he can reach no further without sitting up.

"I told you, I've been studying you for years," he explains, trying to keep his voice steady as he absorbs every extra inch of her body that she's now happy to put on display for him. "I know all your little tells. When your back aches and your shoulders are tense, the way you massage your scalp when you have a headache. Sometimes you look at my lips and I can tell you want to kiss me…" he adds, smiling and then falling silent.

He flicks his gaze up to lock with hers, checking to see if he just gave away too much; how loving her has changed him, whittled his focus, distilled his scattered concentration down to one specific area of expertise – Kate Beckett, his chosen specialist subject.

Kate smiles, drops her eyes to look down at his naked body again and then she looks up at him through her long lashes. "And this?"

Castle is excited already, there's no denying that fact. The second she got close and began undressing him, his heart rate picked up. His skin became extra sensitive to every brush of hers, the scent of her shampoo and just _her _intoxicates him, and then to find himself naked with her again…

His state of arousal is definitely evident.

* * *

"Kate, you asked for slow," he reminds her with a grunt that betrays the self-restraint he's having to find, when she leans forward to smooth her palms up along his thighs and the view turns X rated.

Her breasts drop softly forward as she reaches further out towards him, bypassing his groin and sliding on up to skate over the twitching muscles of his stomach and sides.

Castle watches her face, but then his eyes keep being drawn back down to her magnificent breasts, swaying slightly, her nipples peaked hard, hinting at her own advanced state of excitement. The smooth, tan skin of her abdomen glides away from him, down towards the heavenly gap between her legs.

"You're exquisite," he tells her, reaching out for her hand.

"And you're chatty," she smirks, eyes twinkling. She squeezes his fingers and then lets go again immediately, other things on her mind. "Shhh," she grins, flicking out her tongue to wet her lips before she presses her index finger against their glossy surface.

"Oh, God, you're gonna kill me," Castle exclaims, squeezing his eyes tightly closed for a second, reopening them just as Kate's body ripples and undulates back down, so that she's sitting astride his lap, the cheeks of her ass spread wide so he can see between her thighs.

"Not the plan," Kate tells him, holding his gaze and shaking her head slowly, curls dancing around her face, her breasts swaying slightly from side to side, mesmerizing Castle.

When she bends forward and wraps the fingers of her right hand around his shaft, he fears he might blank out. The sudden rush of blood to his groin is dizzying and he's glad he's lying down for this.

"Oh, jeez, yes!" he hisses, when she tightens her grip, smearing her thumb over the soft, glassy tip to spread his own lubrication before she gradually begins working him.

"Slow, remember?" she whispers, making eye contact again so that he understands her, before she wets her lips, leans over to blow on the head of his shaft and then slowly wraps her lips around him.

Castle abruptly lurches up onto his elbows to get a better view, transfixed by the sight of Kate Beckett taking him into her mouth. His fascination with this wondrous sight keeps him from losing it for about thirty seconds. But she's too good at this, employing just the right amount of suction, her breathing slow and steady through her nose as she takes him deeper and deeper into her throat, her hand working in tandem with her mouth to pump and twist and stroke him into a frenzy. Castle grips the covers with his fists and tries to think of something else, anything to get some control back over his body before he loses it.

Tension builds at the base of his spine, he jerks his hips and curses when Kate caresses his testicles with her fingertips, teasing him even more with the light scratch of her nails over this soft, sensitive area. When she slips one finger behind his shaft and begins to massage the smooth stretched skin of his perineum, he has to blow air in and out through his mouth to hold himself back.

When she stops this intimate massage, his eyes widen as he watches her slip her hand between her own legs to touch herself, while still working him with her mouth. He sees her slide three fingers between her folds, circling them to smear her juices around. When she moans aloud in pleasure, the hum of vibration shoots through his own body, driving his hips to move. The aching, needful, dirty sound is more than Castle can take, and he hits a moment of absolute panic.

* * *

"Not slow. Now slow," he chants, watching her head bob up and down, her cheeks drawing in so tightly that her amazing bone structure becomes even more exaggerated. "God, Kate. Break. Need a break," he pants, reach for her head and signaling for her to stop.

She releases him from between her glistening lips with a loud, wet pop and his erection shoots out of her mouth and sways in front of her face.

"You okay?" she asks breezily, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, giving him a clever, teasing smile that tells him she knows exactly how far she's just pushed him.

"If by okay you mean this close to coming?" he croaks, holding up his thumb and forefinger to indicate how close he is, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Then yeah, I'm great," he nods breathlessly, reaching for her so that they can share a kiss.

Kate has to crawl up over his body to get to him, and she does so eagerly. She lets her thighs slide wider to accommodate Castle's hips and then she slips one hand under his neck to hold him to her while she lowers herself down to hotly meet his mouth.

Castle's aroused state brings her in contact with his body in other ways too, while they indulge in what starts out as a slow make-out session. Things quickly heat up when Kate begins to coast her lower body back and forth over Castle's erection, letting his hard length slide between her folds until she breaks the dizzying kiss to speak to him.

"To hell with slow," she gasps unsteadily. "I want you inside me. Are you good with that?" she asks, her eyebrows raised, eyes wide, hoping for a speedy reply.

"What do you think," smirks Castle, cupping one of her breasts and gently squeezing.

"Good. Because it's time. God, I need you," she tells him, urgently swooping in for another, more bruising kiss, as she reaches down between them to grasp his shaft at the same time.

Castle's hips jerk when her hand closes around him again and Kate grins wickedly. "Easy, lover boy," she tells him, rubbing him against her glossy, swollen lips.

"Stop teasing," growls Castle, shaking his head at her admonishingly.

"Oh, come on. You love it," Kate argues back, circling her hips in a slow, obscene fashion.

"Don't make me come up there and deal with you," throws out Castle bravely, repositioning his pelvis in an attempt to enter her.

Kate rises up away from him, her palm and fingers still wrapped around his length, a look of delicious glee on her face. "Finally maybe I can shut you up," she chuckles, when Castle's mouth drops open in surprise and disappointment at her deception.

"Let's see how long you can hold out, Detective. The way your hips are…_gyrating_ and from the way you've been kissing me, you want this as badly as I do."

"Shhh," whispers Kate, closing her eyes and sinking lower to tease her entrance with the head of Castle's arousal. "I might be horny, but I'm still in control."

"Mmm, always, babe," murmurs Castle, dropping his head back onto the pillow to stare up at the ceiling, while Kate keeps him on edge with her teasing little lap dance.

Kate laughs, stilling her movement to stare at him in amusement. "Did…did you just call me _babe_?"

"Might have," he flinches. "Please don't maim me. Not until we do this again please?" he pleads, reaching for her thigh and urging her to move again.

"You mean _this_?" she asks, locking eyes with his as she grips him firmly in her hand and then slowly lowers herself down on top of him.

"Ohhhh, God, that feels amazing," exclaims Castle, gripping her hips and holding her down so that he can drive himself up into her with a tight curl of his abdominals.

Kate shudders, murmured nonsense dying on her lips. She links Castle's hands with her own, and she helps him join them more completely together, spreading her knees wide on the bed until he's buried deep inside her.

* * *

She sits upright astride him, proud, their hands joined, and they watch one another. Nothing has ever felt more right or more intensely intimate than this. Not with anyone she's ever been with before.

The heated look they share makes her heart pound, desire for him shooting right through her. It's as if Castle can see right inside her head, can read her mind as well as he is able to read her body. They dwell in this moment of collective wonder until the ache and excitement coursing through their bodies gets to be too much and they're forced to give into their need to move.

Kate rises up slowly, her fingers laced with Castle's as he supports her, and then she sinks down onto him again with a smooth, steady ease. This is the first time they have made love with nothing between them, skin on skin, and the silky moisture of their combined excitement only heightens their sensitivity.

Kate rises and falls again, fluidly, torturing her own body as much as Castle's with her lazy, undulating pace.

"You're so beautiful to watch. The way your body moves, your skin, my God, your _curves_," he tells her, sliding his fingers around from her hip into the small of her back. "But I want you near me. I want to feel your tongue inside my mouth when you come for me, Kate. I want to hear you moan when I spill inside you and your body tightens around mine."

Kate shudders at his words and the press of his fingers so low down on her ass. He smooths his large hands up and down over the plump curve of her rear, feeding his body into hers again and again. Her skin is hot and feverish; both of them beginning to perspire from the controlled exertion and the effort they are making to hold themselves back.

Shadows dance in time with their movements and the hiss and crack of a sparking wick cuts through the near silence. Gold flecks dance in the irises of Kate's eyes and Castle stares at her in wonder.

"Mmm, faster," she murmurs listlessly, tossing her head back. Her hair tumbles off her shoulders and down her back and her breasts rise high.

Castle lets go one of her hands to skim her puckered nipple with his palm. When he pinches it between thumb and forefinger Kate hisses and arches harder against him, driving him even deeper.

"You are so fucking good at this," he declares, his eyes widening in amazement when he feels her muscles grip him even tighter.

"No, _we_ are good at this," insists Kate, a crazy, lustful light in her smiling eyes.

* * *

She joins hands with him again and falls forward, altering their position and the depth of penetration at a stroke.

They fall silent, except for a regular chant of guttural grunts and moans and heavy breathing, picking up speed, foreheads frowning in concentration.

Kate can feel the ache in her core getting more and more insistent as she chases the bliss of another climax with Castle. The pulse between her legs is demanding - a delicious, painful, throbbing tension she never wants to be free of.

Eventually, Castle lets go his hold on her hips and reaches up to cup her face instead, eyes searching out hers.

"Look at me?" he asks, parting his lips lustfully, his gaze wild and ecstatic as he grazes the side of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Castle can feel Kate's body teetering on the edge from the desperate way she's grinding against him, using his body to heighten her own pleasure, and he loves it. She's riding him, so close to the edge that he can feel her beginning to lose her careful mastery over their rhythm; her movements tired and messy, slightly chaotic.

His blood sings with it – with the reality of making love to her – and his body pounds and throbs deep inside her, pressure building up with every stroke.

"Come for me, Kate," he whispers, kissing her lightly until she parts her lips for him and groans as she rolls her hips extra forcefully against him. "That's it, let go."

"Together," pants Kate, fighting for breath, her cheeks pink with exertion, a bead of sweat rolling down between her breasts. "You close?"

Castle kisses her deeply once again. "Say the word."

Kate nods. "Let go."

* * *

They speed up again, staring at one another, their eyes locked - vulnerable, exposed and in love - both consumed by the fire raging through them, by the desire transporting them out of their bodies to a shared nirvana they crave, no matter how fleeting the trip.

Kate's mouth is fused with Castle's just like he wanted, their tongues stroking dirtily, tasting the fervor of their lust, lips sucking wetly, when the dam finally breaks and Kate loses control. She jerks against him, whining quietly, her hips quiver, muscles fluttering. Warm wetness floods between them as Castle quickly comes too, the second he feels her let go. He spills inside her, pumping over and over, emitting a cry he muffles against her damp neck; a cry that that sounds like pain, and his fingertips hold her above him as he drives into her soft, swollen flesh with a few final, jerky, desperate thrusts.

Their eyes are tightly closed as they ride the razor fine line between pleasure and pain, chasing after the dying sparks of their orgasm, knowing that sated peace and a fleeting sadness will be quick to follow.

Kate collapses in a sweaty heap onto Castle's chest, and he holds her there, his head thrown to one side on the pillow as he fights to draw more air into his lungs. Kate's curls lie in a tangled sweep across his neck and cheek, and he inhales the magnificence of her, promising himself that he will never forget a second of tonight, not one single detail.

Castle's heart pounds beneath her ear and her own blood thunders in her veins, answering the demanding call of his that they live, that she lives, or maybe that they go on living for one another. Because that's what this feels like now, suddenly, terribly, there is no life for her without him in it. And it's a powerful, wonderful and terrifying realization all at once.

Castle's arms tighten around her just as she has this thought, and it's almost as if they share one mind again. The ferocity with which he holds her matches her own horror that she could so easily have missed out on this. One inch to the left - not having the courage to draw Martha out yesterday, not taking the time to figure out his mood, not pushing herself to finally confront her own lie, her own fear and weakness, could have meant missing out on all of this.

* * *

"Stop thinking so loud."

Castle's words are like a glass of cold water thrown in her face, and she gasps in shock, straining against the strong arms that cradle her.

"Relax. Hey! Hey," he whispers, soothing her down with a gentle kiss to her temple, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Her breathing slows, her heart rate follows, and she settles her body against his.

"You okay?" asks Castle, stroking a light path up and down her spine that makes her shiver, as he nuzzles his nose into her hair.

"Good…I'm good," she tells him, kissing his cheek, rubbing her face against his.

"I love you."

Her words in the dark, candlelit bedroom startle Castle this time.

He buries his face in her hair again, pressing a deep, meaning-filled kiss to her scalp. "You have no idea how good it is to hear you say those words."

Leaning back so that she is able to touch his face, skimming the bridge of his nose with her fingertips, caressing the seam of his mouth, memorizing each feature anew now that she can really look at him openly and let him see how she loves him back.

"Actually, I do," she nods, smoothing a mess of damp hair off his forehead. "I've lived with your love for longer. In here," she tells him, grasping his hand and pressing it flat over her heart. "But it never means any less, never _gets_ any less, Castle."

"Are you scared?" he asks her, serious eyes roaming her face for a reaction to this unexpected question, one that throws him too.

Kate strokes his ear. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm terrified," he admits, with a short, self-deprecating laugh.

"I think that's just the price people pay for this, Castle. To love is to risk, isn't it?" she shrugs. "Not that we're going to hurt each other. The risk is—"

"_Losing_," interjects Castle, clearly.

Kate nods wordlessly.

* * *

They fall silent again, and eventually Kate eases onto her side and then her back, so that they are lying next to one another looking up at the dancing demons on the ceiling.

She feels for Castle's hand on top of the covers, slides hers into his grasp and feels him squeeze.

"Seems like the universe is cutting us a little slack this weekend," she points out with a smile.

"Wonder what the payback will be?" chuckles Castle.

"Mmm," hums Kate noncommittally, feeling languorous and limp, a pleasant ache still humming through her body.

"Quick shower before bed?" he suggests, turning his head to look at her.

"You're already thinking about the phone ringing again," chides Kate, nudging his arm.

"I figure the universal hourglass has to run out of sand sometime."

"Get the water running nice and hot, then give me a shout and I'll come join you," says Kate, giving him another nudge, this time to get him out of bed.

"So bossy, Detective," grins Castle, rolling towards her to plant a final, lingering kiss on her lips before getting up.

"And you love it," Kate calls after him, taking time to enjoy the view when Castle walks off towards the bathroom.

_TBC..._

* * *

_Love to hear your thoughts - please don't be shy. Have a lovely weekend. Liv_


	15. Chapter 15 - Finding Their Land Legs

_A/N: So, I've had the best time with this story. Mostly because of your deep and unwavering enthusiasm for every chapter all throughout Christmas and New Year. I hope you enjoy this final one. I'm sad to see it go too, but the story is at an end, I'm afraid. _

_So until next time, kiddos..._

* * *

"_Two sleepy people by dawn's early light_

_And too much in love to say goodnight"_

_**-Dean Martin**__ – 'Two Sleepy People'_

* * *

**_Chapter 15 – Finding Their Land Legs_**

The time is just after eleven when they finally curl up in bed together, both wearing not a stitch, except for a grin and a slightly glazed expression.

"One hell of a day," murmurs Castle, kissing Kate's shower-damp hair as she leans against him.

There's water on the bathroom floor and a bundle of damp towels discarded in a corner. They almost fell at one point, skidding on a patch of soapy foam, but he saved them both, and she was grateful and her gratitude was loud and he loves her all the more for who she is with him now. He's grateful for who she's decided to let herself be and for the man she has turned him into.

Kate laughs and then yawns at the same time, stretching until her whole body is racked with tiny tremors. "No kidding. What a day," she concurs, tears from yawning clouding her vision as she sags back against the pillows.

They both have books on their laps - unopened books – and a cup of tea on their nightstands, until now ignored, since they're just so caught up in being together, quiet and alone, in bed on a lazy Saturday night.

For them, this is about as surreal as life has gotten recently, and surreal might just be Kate Beckett's new, favorite thing. Except for making love to her partner of course. That most definitely tops her list.

* * *

"Tell me more about the tree?" asks Castle, after a quiet couple of moments spent toying with the fingers of Kate's right hand.

Everything about her that has fascinated him for so long - her skin, her hands, that spectacular body hidden beneath her clothes - he now gets to touch and explore up close, and he isn't wasting a minute of that quest now that he has an 'access all areas' pass.

He shifts his weight so that he can hold her even closer. Kate wiggles to one side obligingly so that she can lean back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her, bundling her up beneath the covers, her naked skin so warm and soft against his. "Whose idea was the carving?" he asks, intimacy and curiosity warming his voice.

Kate clears her throat. "Okay, so, the reservoir is a mile and a half all the way round. My mom used to take me there in my stroller to get me to sleep. She said it was the perfect distance, that I'd be asleep by the halfway point and then she could enjoy the view in peace the rest of the way," she laughs, happy to be recalling this memory.

"How old would you have been then?" asks Castle, completely enthrall to her story, eager as a sponge to soak up every tiny detail.

"Newborn onwards, I think. She walked there several times a week if the weather was good enough. That path is always pretty busy, so I guess she felt safe by herself when my dad was at work. I don't think maternity leave really suited her," she confesses, glancing back at him briefly.

"Being at home?"

"Yeah. She liked to work. Liked being around people…adults, putting her brain to use helping people solve their legal problems. I mean it wasn't that she didn't love me or anything," she adds hastily, in case Castle gets the wrong idea.

"Hey," chuckles Castle, squeezing her tighter, smoothing her hair off the side of her face. "Who could fail to love you?"

"Castle, I cried and I pooped just like any other baby. I'm sure that was enough to drive my mom crazy at times."

"Still, I'll bet you were adorable," he persists.

"Well, thank you. Anyway, when I started school, she used to pick me up in the summer and some afternoons we'd go to a museum. I loved the dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum, so we'd go there, and some days we'd go to Central Park for ice cream and we'd take a walk."

"And that's when you defaced the tree?" Castle interjects.

Kate turns her head to glare at him with mock annoyance. "Who's telling this story?"

"Sorry, you are," he concedes, holding up his hands in surrender.

"That's right. Now hush and you might learn something," she tells him a little tartly, taking hold of his wrists and wrapping his arms around her again. "So, anyway, one day we were passing behind the Met and my mom strayed off the path. I ran after her and she walked straight over to this tree. When I got there she was studying the bark, running her fingers over something. Whatever it was was too high up for me to see."

"Did you ask her what she was looking at?"

"Yeah, I asked her what she was doing, and she turned around with this smile on her face that I'll never forget, it just lit up her face, and then she dropped to her knees in front of me, took my hands and she said 'Katie, when you fall in love, make sure you take a moment to mark it'."

"Mark it?" repeats Castle, frowning and curious.

"Mmm. Well, I was five and I had no idea what she meant by that. So I said 'But mommy, I love _you_. Can _we_ mark it?'"

Kate is vaguely aware of Castle withdrawing his hand and pressing his fingers over his mouth. When she turns to look at him he has tears in his eyes.

Kate's eyes widen. "Oh, no, Rick, I'm sorry," she exclaims gently, prizing his hand away from his mouth. "This isn't a sad story. This is a memory I cherish. It makes me smile to think of it, honestly. Don't be sad on my behalf."

Castle clears his constricted throat before he speaks. "How do you deal with this stuff? Remembering? You're always so brave about everything."

Kate gives him a watery smile of understanding. "Years of practice?" she shrugs. "Time does heal, you know. That, and the love of a very good, very kind man," she tells him, squeezing his hand with meaning.

"Don't. You'll start me off and that wouldn't be very manly."

Kate smiles sympathetically, not for the first time amazed by the sheer size of her partner's tender heart. She pats his hand. "Okay, so I'll tell you the rest of the story, shall I?"

"Please, while I get a grip on myself."

Castle sniffs then and they both laugh.

* * *

"Okay, so next time we went to that area of the park, I dragged her back over to that same tree and I _begged_ her to 'make our love mark, mommy'. I was insistent. Loud! I'm afraid I made a bit of a scene when she told me we couldn't."

"Oh dear. Little Katie Beckett was a terror, huh?"

"Let's just say I had a fine pair of lungs when I needed them."

Castle laughs. "You still have a fine—"

"Don't say it!" interrupts Kate, shaking her head at him, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Anyway, this went on a for a while whenever we'd go to the park, until gradually I forgot about it. Years passed and we picked out new routes and the old tree slipped my mind, until one day up by the reservoir. It was raining, one of those late spring showers that's sudden and warm and surprising. It was a Sunday afternoon, I think. My dad was at a Yankees game with his brother and mom and I went out to take a walk. We sheltered under some trees when the rain came on and that's when I found it."

"Found what?"

"The gnarly old tree with all the carvings on the trunk. It was perfect. The idea of marking our love might have changed since I'd gotten older, but I still wanted us to carve our initials into the bark. And this time she agreed."

"When was the last time you went there…saw the carving?" asks Castle, angling his head so that he can see her face.

Kate looks down and takes a second to swallow slowly, letting out a deep breath. Her eyes are shining when Castle gently tilts her chin to turn her head towards him. She shifts so that they're almost facing, every brush of his skin against hers is electric and her heart is over-flowing to bursting point.

"I haven't been back there since before she died. I…I don't remember the exact last time. To be honest, I'd forgotten all about the tree by the time I went to high school, discovered boys, started dating. Then I graduated and then went off to college." Kate shrugs and picks a piece of lint off the covers. "I guess life just got in the way."

"So, what made you think of it today?"

For a second she looks a little embarrassed. She looks down at her hands and then quickly drags her eyes back up to Castle's face. "I'm sure this isn't in anyway unique or…or special, but I just have this…this _urge_ to share things with you all of a sudden. I know it's sentimental and not at all like me, but—"

"Kate?" says Castle gently, silencing her with a quick, surprising kiss. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of _big_ into sentimentality. Just like I'm big on magic and fate and…I'm also kind of big on you."

"Is that so?" she asks, caressing his chin with her thumb, a smiling, happy light in her eyes.

"Yes, you know it is. So, that you thought to share that story with me is wonderful. And you're right when you say it's not unique – wanting to open your life up to someone you're in love with – but it's natural. It's a _good_ thing," he assures her, firmly clasping both her hands in his for emphasis.

Castle smiles then, his head tipped to one side as he looks at her. "And I think your Dr. Burke might approve too."

Kate laughs quietly at his observation. "You're right. I'm sure he would."

* * *

They drink their tea and chat some more until the gaps between yawns get shorter and their eyelids begin to droop. They're both fighting sleep because they don't want to leave one another, not even to drift off curled up side-by-side for a few hours, so smitten are they now.

"I feel like I could sit up and talk to you all night," confesses Castle, squeezing her hand when he jerks awake after fleetingly closing his eyes and dropping off for a second or two.

"I know the feeling," echoes Kate, nodding in agreement. "But I think we're both kind of exhausted. How about we lie down and try to get some sleep? Stories will still be there tomorrow."

"Promise you'll keep talking to me the way you been have today?" asks Castle, betraying some lingering anxiety over how open she will remain once another new day dawns and they move further away in time from that pivotal night of angst-ridden epiphany.

Kate hates that he's worried she'll awaken tomorrow and close back down again. So she lifts the covers, slides down beneath them and tugs Castle after her, so that eventually, once they settle, his body is wrapped around hers as they lie on their sides.

"Listen to me," she tells him, stroking the back of his hand, which is spread wide against her stomach. "We're lying here naked in bed together, you just pinned me to the wall of my shower and made me _beg_ for mercy. You think I'm going to clam up tomorrow? Think again. I warned you, Castle, you are going to find it hard to shut me up from now on," chuckles Kate, as Castle gets a little free with his hands beneath the sheets and Kate squirms in his firm grip.

"Then good. I'm glad we cleared that up. Because tomorrow I want to start on 'Kate Beckett: The High School Years'. Find out how adorable little Katie morphed into the notorious wild child I keep hearing about."

"And if I share these things with you, what do I get in return?" asks Kate, her eyes now closed in the dark, her breathing soft and regular, a smile playing at her lips.

"Whatever madam desires," purrs Castle, right next to Kate's ear, sending shivers of anticipatory desire shooting down her spine.

"Then I think maybe we have a deal, lover boy."

"I had a feeling you might say that," he replies, stroking his hand back and forth across her stomach.

"Aaaaand, still as cocky as ever," laughs Kate, elbowing Castle in the ribs.

* * *

They fall silent, quiet settling over the bedroom like an extra thick blanket. Kate lets her whole body relax, sinking into the pillows, the mattress and the warmth of her partner's arms, which are draped comfortingly around her.

But still sleep eludes her.

"You still awake?" she whispers, an hour or so later.

Despite being deadbeat tired, her muscles aching in places she hasn't ached in a really long time, her eyes heavy with the pull of sleep and her grip on Castle's forearm slack to the point of slipping, she feels her brain still fighting to stay awake.

"Yeah, you too?" whispers Castle, his fingers twitching on her hip, and they both laugh quietly at how ridiculous they sound whispering to one another in the dark when no one is around to hear them.

Kate groans with frustration at her desperate exhaustion and complete inability to sleep. "Rick, we need to sleep. So tired," she murmurs, sounding faintly delirious.

Castle chuckles quietly against her neck. "Then maybe you should stop talking."

"Right," she laughs, her hair brushing against the pillow when she nods. "How about you tell me a story?" she asks hesitantly, a couple of seconds later, feeling her cheeks flame as soon as the words leave her lips.

But Castle doesn't seem to mind. He certainly doesn't poke fun at her, for which she is very grateful.

"What kind of story did you have in mind? A _dirty_ story, Detective?" he whispers, his warm breath and two-day old stubble tickling her neck.

Kate shakes with laughter at his suggestive tone and struggles against him when he pretends to bite her neck. She makes a half-hearted attempt to push him away, but neither of them is buying it.

She settles in close to him again, letting her head drop back against his shoulder, already anticipating the soothing timbre of his voice. "Tell me about Nikki and Rook. When you started writing about them. What that felt like…these two complete strangers who just turned up inside your head. How you…how you brought them to life."

Kate feels his arms tighten around her – some reflexive response to her question or to the memory it evokes, she isn't sure which.

"Excited," he says suddenly, without any hesitation. "I felt _so_ excited, for the first time in a long time. And the words…I spent two days straight with words just pouring out through my fingertips onto my laptop screen. The words just wouldn't stop once I could see Nikki in my head and could hear her voice…"

"What does she sound like to you?" asks Kate, curiosity about an aspect of this character she's never even considered before just popping into her head.

"A gift," says Castle, unexpectedly.

Not loud or quiet, strident, bossy, in control, mysterious or sexy. None of the adjectives Kate expects to hear come out of his mouth. Just this simple statement – _she sounds like a gift_.

Kate rolls over in bed to look at him, only a faint seam of streetlight sneaking between the curtains to help her see his face. She tangles her legs with his, lays her hand on his arm, her other hand pushed under her pillow.

"That's how I think of you," she tells him, heartbreak and wonder tightening her throat, stinging her eyes and making her voice faint and hoarse.

"As a gift?" asks Castle, and she sees him frown, his forehead marred by incomprehension and a puzzled hopefulness that this might actually be what she means.

She nods in reply, reaching up to smooth her fingers over these unnecessary frown lines, and even though they can barely see one another, he understands that she means to say yes; he is a gift to her, for all his annoyance and meddling, his faults and pushing. He is her gift to love and cherish from now on. He is the man who made life worth living again, who showed her how to dream in color, instead of just black and white. He's the man who makes her want more, makes her want to share her past, her present and her future with him.

* * *

The kiss starts off slow and tender but then it flares to life in the space between heartbeats, slicing through them like an electric shock. Her frenzied attack on his mouth is only matched by his unquenchable fervor for her. They pant and groan and flinch, lick and suck and nip and bite. Fingers grip and knead and grasp and bruise and soothe, desperation coursing between them, feeling like they can never get close enough.

When they pull apart, blood raging, hearts beating like they might burst, hammering so hard that Kate can hear her pulse thudding in her eardrums, she grabs him, hauls him against her chest and then cradles him in her arms, her face pressed in against his neck.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs eventually, trying to bring them back down again to a calmer place, where dozing off might become more than a faint possibility. "That isn't going to help us sleep."

Castle kisses her ear and strokes her spine. "Never be sorry for something like that, Kate. Never," he reassures her, his fingertips tripping lightly up and down her back.

She curls herself around him, feeling any remaining distance between them melt like a snowflake in a shaft of sunlight. He makes her feel whole. He makes her feel like she has come home again, after years of restless wandering alone.

"Who needs sleep anyway?" he mumbles, his body growing slack against hers.

Despite his words, his grip is already loosening, as frenzied ardour quickly makes way for feeling comforted, safe and loved. He drifts off to sleep in her arms a couple of minutes later and Kate soon follows suit.

* * *

Kate's cell phone rings a little after five in the morning, the bedroom still more or less dark, and she grabs for the phone as fast as she can in an attempt to silence it before Castle is woken too.

"Beckett?" she whispers, covering the mouthpiece with her hand.

The dispatcher fires off an address and Kate shifts her brain into work mode in order to memorize it.

"Anyone else been called out yet?" she asks, getting the reply that she's first on the detective call-out list by dint of her seniority. She tells the woman that she'll call her team, thanks her and then she hangs up the phone.

When she turns and sits up, tugging the sheet with her to ward off the cold, she finds Castle is lying on his back with his arms pillowed behind his head looking up at her.

"Morning," she grins, leaning back down to kiss him. She ruffles his hair and strokes his cheek, nudging his nose with her own.

"Mmm, morning," he smiles back, sliding his fingers behind her neck in an attempt to keep her close to him so that he can prolong this early morning kiss.

Kate pats his naked chest and sighs, flipping over onto her stomach. Then she leans her chin on his sternum.

"Was that the Universe calling to exact its pound of flesh?" he asks, running his fingertip across her eyebrow and down the slope of her nose.

"I'm afraid so. We've got a body. Male shooting victim found in a car in an alley off Avenue D. I have to call the guys, pass on the address," she explains, holding up her cell phone.

"So, I guess our lazy breakfast is out?"

"I'm sorry. There will be other Sundays, I promise. Just let me make this call and I'll start some coffee. You can shower first if you want _or_…" She hesitates, before crawling out of bed backwards.

"I like the sound of 'or'," grins Castle, leaning up on one elbow to watch Kate get out of bed.

He will never tire of looking at this woman naked. _Never._

"_Or_ you can stay here, sleep for a bit. It's still early...just after five. I can fly solo on this one. "

"_Aaaand_ now I'm not liking 'or' so much," he replies comically, shaking his head as he struggles upright.

Kate shrugs her robe on and loosely ties the belt, and then she leans on the bedroom door to look at him.

"Then I'll make the coffee and you start the shower. Let me call the guys and I'll be right in to join you. How does that sound?"

"Perfect. Oh, and Kate?" he calls after her before she can get too far.

She pokes her head back through the bedroom doorway. "Yes?"

"Good morning. I love you."

The look on her face is almost too much for Castle – a mix of wonder, surprise and delight, he'd probably describe it as, if he could find the words to string a sentence together.

"I love you too," she tells him softly, with a nod and an easy smile. Her eyes sparkle despite their lack of sleep and her face just seems to glow. "Let's get ready to go face our public."

* * *

After their shower – which is a severe test of their ability to keep their hands to themselves – Castle gets out first to dry off and give Kate room to finish up by herself. He disappears off to the bedroom in search of his clothes, taking sips of coffee from mug Kate brought through for him as he goes.

"Kate?" he yells, giving up to go back into the bathroom to speak to her directly. "Have you seen my boxer shorts and socks? I can't find them anywhere."

Kate has just stepped out of the shower and is wrapping herself up in a towel when she hears his question. The sharp intake of breath she makes, along with the upward snap of her head from the knot she was busy making in the front of her towel does nothing to reassure him. When she presses her fingers over her mouth to stifle a gasping laugh, he knows he's in trouble.

"I threw them in the laundry last night with my stuff," she says, her eyes dancing with mischievous mirth over his naked torso and legs.

"Great. Thanks. So…dryer?" asks Castle, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

Kate shakes her head, her smile widening, before she gets a grip and bites her lip, preparing to explain.

"I kind of forgot to finish the laundry when we…you know," she says, arching her eyebrows.

"So…to be clear, I have _no_ clean underwear or socks. Is that what you're telling me?"

Kate nods, unable to keep the smile off her face. "I'm afraid you have no underwear or socks period. They'll still be wet."

Castle runs a hand through his hair and paces back and forth a little.

"You could…_uh_…" She smirks and another giggle bubbles out of her mouth.

"What? I could what?"

"You could always go commando," chokes out Kate, eventually doubling over with laughter.

"You think this is so funny, don't you?" says Castle, unable to stop himself from smiling when he sees the state Kate is in.

It's about five-thirty in the morning. They're exhausted, should be cranky or over-emotional. But instead they're giggling like a couple of teenagers.

"Should I go home? Change? Maybe we should arrive separately anyway?" offers Castle, waiting for Kate's guidance for once.

"_Should?_ You know what? I'm sick of _'should'_. I've had enough of should. To hell with department rules and Captain Gates. You're still friends with the Mayor, right?"

Castle nods.

"Then throw on the clothes you do have and get your coat. We're going to a crime scene."

* * *

A little after six, dressed like she just stepped out of the pages of a magazine, Kate pulls up to the address they've been given and then she kills the engine.

Castle has been quiet most of the way, occasionally running his hands through his hair or staring out of the side window. Kate hopes his uncharacteristic silence is just down to a lack of sleep.

"You okay?"

He lets out a long, slow breath before he speaks. Then he swivels in his seat to look at her. "I feel as if we've been inside this protective bubble these last two days," he explains, looking frankly a little worried.

"The bubble doesn't have to burst just because we have to go back out there," Kate points out, thumbing over her shoulder towards the crime scene.

"Are you sure?"

Kate takes hold of both of his hands, keeping them down low in her lap so that no one will see. "Castle, I _promise_. We're the same people we were on Friday morning when we went to work, and yes…maybe life is totally different for us now too. But we want it this way. This is what we've both been waiting for. A chance to be _more_ than partners, more than just friends."

"More. Yeah, I know," nods Castle, restlessly running a hand through his hair again. "That…that one word about sums everything up for me. Being in your life in any way I could had become so important to me, Kate. But to be _more_…for you…" he says, shaking his head in disbelief and reaching out to cup her cheek.

Kate quickly darts her eyes out of the car to scan the entrance to the alley across the street where the crime scene perimeter is already being established by a number of Uniforms. She risks covering Castle's hand with her own as he tenderly strokes his thumb over the skin beneath her eye since she can see he needs her reassurance.

"We should probably…" she says eventually, tipping her head towards the gap in the buildings opposite, reluctantly breaking eye contact with him.

Castle grudgingly withdraws his hand back down to his lap, and then he nods stoically. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just…try to remember how I feel about you. Okay? How we can be there for each other now," she says, turning away to release her seatbelt.

When she turns around again she's smiling. "Oh, and Castle? If you feel you might be struggling, keep your hands in your pockets, remember?" she tells him, with a wink and a grin, before opening her car door.

* * *

They cross the street side-by-side, trying to keep a respectable, though not unnatural, distance between them as they walk. Castle has indeed shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, as Kate suggested, to prevent any touching, accidental or otherwise.

When they get midway along the alley, they find Lanie crouched by the open door of a late model Toyota Corolla, her kit already open on the ground by her side. Ryan and Esposito are talking to a man in a black leather jacket by the back entrance to some kind of commercial property a little further down. They both raise their hands in silent greeting when they spot Kate and Castle arriving.

Kate touches Castle's elbow in a gesture of solidarity and reassurance, and then she leaves his side to go and talk to the M.E. while her partner begins to explore the scene.

"Hey, Lanie. What have you got for us?"

Lanie gives her a slow, curious look, studying her for a few seconds longer than normal; as if she's one of those 'spot the difference' puzzles and she's trying to figure out what's changed about her friend since she last saw her.

"You okay?" asks Lanie, her eyes trained on Kate's face, searching, reading.

"Yeah, fine," answers Kate, sounding guilty as hell, though she tries to be breezy. "So…our victim. Tell me what you know."

Lanie narrows her eyes at Kate once more before she breaks the staring contest and begins her rundown.

"Meet Jeremy Thomas. Male, late twenties, single gunshot wound to the head. I'd put T.O.D. around three-thirty this morning based on liver temp. Gun was found lying in the footwell of the car. No signs of a struggle, and all his belongs appear to be intact. Boys found a diamond engagement ring in a box inside his jacket. Watch, wallet and cell phone are all still on the body."

"So, robbery wasn't a motive then."

"Nope," replies Lanie, shaking her head. "Looks more like he died of a broken heart."

* * *

Just ten minutes later and the case is all wrapped up.

"Wait. We've never solved a case _at_ the crime scene before," points out Castle, following Kate over to the CSU tech, who's checking the results of an on-scene test.

"First time for everything, I guess," winks Kate, giving him a meaningful, loaded look.

"Beckett's right," drawls Lanie. "Guy's money and I.D. are still in his wallet, techs got a positive result for GSR on his hands and jacket, and there's a full confessional suicide note in his coat pocket."

"You're sure he shot himself though? It wasn't just made to _look_ like a suicide?" badgers Castle, though even he's not sure why he's pursing this one when they could be walking quickly away.

"He's wearing his watch on his right wrist," points our Ryan.

"Indicating the guy was left-handed," adds Esposito.

"Exactly," confirms Lanie. "He shot himself under the chin with the gun held in his left hand. Residue test is conclusive for GSR on the fingers and the palm of the hand, as well as the sleeve of his coat. Stellate tearing to the skin beneath his chin and this muzzle mark with the corona of soot around the entry wound shows it was a pressure contact shot."

"What about prints on the gun?" asks Castle, aware that Kate is giving him a strange look for pushing to point.

"Prints are present. We'll be able to tell if they're the victim's when we get them back to the lab," replies the CSU Tech.

"With the damage to the top of his skull and the blood spatter on the roof of the car…" Lanie shrugs, letting this last, obvious, gruesome observation hang in the air. "Trajectory is pretty clear. Nothing about the scene looks staged."

"Yeah, Castle. And the handwriting on the note even matches his own signature on his driver's license," offers Ryan, holding out a clear plastic evidence baggie containing the victim's I.D. for him to see.

Castle falls silent for a second or two, processing all the evidence that's just been presented to him. Then he takes Kate's arm and leads her away from the group a few feet before he speaks again. "_Really?_" he whispers, leaning in just a little too close to look innocent. "We got out of bed for _this_?"

"Yeah, well, just means we can get back in again," she winks, tugging on the front of his jacket.

Castle eyes her hungrily, excited that they get to be co-conspirators now. "Your place or mine?"

* * *

Ryan and Esposito call Castle over while Beckett ties up formalities with Lanie.

"So, bro…you and Beckett?" challenges Esposito, as he and Ryan double team to crowd the writer back against the wall of the alley.

"Me and Beckett _what?_" squeaks Castle, when his head and shoulders suddenly collide with the dirty, rough brick of building behind.

"Oh, come on, Castle. You're not seriously gonna try and deny it?" asks Ryan, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Deny what?" Yep, it's probably futile, but he's going to have a damn good try or go down fighting.

"Unshaven, same clothes as two days ago…" points out Esposito, tutting disapprovingly as he tugs on the front of Castle's wrinkled shirt.

"And no coffee," chips in Ryan, looking him up and down.

"Yeah, man. No coffee," repeats Esposito, as if this alone were a hanging offence. "And what are you, Don Johnson all of a sudden? This ain't Miami, dude, and yet here you are, not wearing any socks."

"_In March_," adds Ryan, with a gotcha tone to his voice.

Castle is suddenly glad that they can't see that - either deliberately or by accident - Beckett has conspired to force him to turn up at a crime scene minus his underwear.

"Guy, guys," interrupts Castle, shaking his head and trying to laugh at how ridiculous they both sound, though he can already see his chances of denying that there's anything going on between him and Beckett sailing off down the East River. The evidence is stacking up against him. "That's all you've got? I'm not wearing socks and I forgot to bring coffee to a crime scene at six a.m. on a Sunday morning? What if I told you my local coffee shop was closed and I already had some before I came out anyway."

"What about Beckett's coffee?" asks Esposito, narrowing his eyes menacingly, as if Castle has just insulted his sister.

"Maybe Beckett made her own coffee," he finds himself saying, since this at least is not a lie.

"It's more than just the coffee, Castle," adds Ryan, backing his partner up.

"Yeah, man. Look at you. You've lost that torn-up, hangdog thing you had going when you left the Precinct on Friday night," points out Esposito, and Castle can feel his stomach flipping over – not in a good way.

"We're detectives, remember?" adds Ryan, poking him in the chest.

"So, who're you trying to kid…_exactly?_" muscles in Esposito. "With this…this Mr. Innocent look?"

Castle is just about to open his mouth again to attempt to refute what is clearly irrefutable - though he will have a damned good try - when his guardian angel appears a few feet away. Long legs, tousled hair, and a body he now _knows_ is to die for.

"Castle, you comin'?" asks Kate casually, her arms crossed and a lazy, sexy smile on her face that does nothing to back up his assertion that they haven't just spent the entire weekend in bed together, getting to know one another a whole lot better.

"Yup, be right there," he grins in reply, before patting both male detectives on the chest and pushing his way between them. "Bye, suckers," he crows, bumping shoulders with Esposito as he strides after Kate down the dirty alley.

* * *

Castle quickly catches up with his partner and they easily fall in step.

"They giving you trouble back there?" asks Kate, letting her arm brush against Castle's as they walk.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he replies lightly, though deep down he knows they're probably screwed. And on day one!

"Yeah, Lanie made me too," responds Kate, giving him a flash of a grin when he glances over at her in surprise. "Hey, it's not your fault. We're just not as good at hiding things as we thought."

Castle nods, glad that she isn't mad at him for being such a poor liar.

"So, what's it to be. The quiet of your apartment or—"

Kate winces before she answers his question. "I have to do the notification to next of kin, I'm afraid," she explains, turning her head just in time to catch her partner's face fall. "But you—No, Castle, just listen to me," she says, discreetly taking hold of his wrist when she hopes no one is looking and leading him over to the protection of the wall. "You go home, get some rest. See your daughter…your mother. Answer _all_ their awkward questions, and then when all of that is out of the way, how about if I come to your place and we pick up where we left off?"

"Promise?" he asks, eyes already dancing with excitement at the thought.

"I promise. I'll even bring a good bottle of wine with me. How does that sound?"

"And an overnight bag? You will stay, won't you?"

Kate kicks a stone across the alley and then she looks up, straight into his eyes. "I actually kind of assumed that part was a given," she grins, shrugging her shoulders a little apologetically.

The way he smiles at here then – as if she is his whole world – she can't help but stretch up on her toes to kiss him. She believes they're partially secluded by the row of Dumpsters lined up against the wall, but when a round of slow handclapping and a volley of wolf-whistles start up, she knows for certain that they are not.

Kate drops back down onto her heels and presses her fingers to her damp lips trying to conceal her smile beneath her hand.

"About damn time, girl!" yells Lanie, and she and Castle both giggle, far too well caught out to do anything about denying it now.

"I should probably…go," says Kate, jerking her head back towards the scene.

"Right. So…I'll just grab a cab," suggests Castle, though neither of them makes a move to go anywhere.

"Great," grins Kate, reluctantly letting go of his hand.

"See you tonight."

"Yeah. I'll see you at home," replies Kate, shyly meeting his gaze, knowing exactly how laden with meaning her choice of words is for both of them.

"I'll be waiting," Castle promises, backing away from her with a stupefied grin on his face.

"Hey, Rick?" she calls after him, just as he turns away and takes a further few steps from her.

"Yeah?" he asks, his chest flooding with hope that maybe she's going to ask him to stay, though he knows he isn't really needed and a little space won't do them any harm.

"Don't shave, okay?" she asks tentatively, her cheeks coloring at this personal request.

Castle grins and self-consciously touches his jaw, fingers rasping over the two-day layer of growth. "You sure?" he asks, with an amused frown.

"Indulge me," nods Kate enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling.

Before she can turn back for the alley Castle strides over to her, eating up the distance between them in seconds, and then sweeps her up into a bruising kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her and lifting her off her feet.

Kate squeals and he tries to stifle the noise with his mouth.

"You know I'd do anything for you. Anything at all," he breathes against her parted lips, his forehead resting intimately against hers once he lowers her back to the ground.

He kisses her once more before he lets her go and then reluctantly backs away.

This time, when he turns to leave, the entire alley full of CSU techs, Uniforms, Detectives and even the M.E. are left too speechless by this sudden, powerful display of passion between the writer and the detective to even raise a whistle.

Castle saunters off to the next busy intersection in search of a cab with a spring in his step and a smile on his face, and Kate watches him disappear all the way to the corner, before she too turns and walks away.

* * *

_"'Cause all of me_  
_Loves all of you_  
_Love your curves and all your edges_  
_All your perfect imperfections_  
_Give your all to me_  
_I'll give my all to you_  
_You're my end and my beginning"_

_**- John Legend**, 'All Of Me'_

* * *

_A/N: And there we have it. The End. Thank you once again for all your support and encouragement. These final lyrics seemed apt and were shared with me by my friend and yours, NoOrdinaryLines. I will be returning to finish 'Coming Home for Good' as soon as I get a chance to catch my breath and transport my brain back to the little town of Luray, VA. Thanks guys, love to hear your thoughts on the completed story if you can spare a few seconds. Liv_


End file.
